


City of Colour

by CrazyJ



Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Amnesia, Angst, Colour Bond, Established Relationship, Loss of Soul Bond, M/M, Minor Character Soulmate Death, Soul Bond, concussion
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-10-18
Updated: 2018-07-16
Packaged: 2018-08-23 04:11:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 52,562
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8313523
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CrazyJ/pseuds/CrazyJ
Summary: After crashing into the ice during the 2017 Stadium Series, Sidney wakes up in the hospital without the ability to see colour. The lack of colours wouldn't be so concerning if he hadn't already found his soulmate. Even more concerning then the lack of colour however? The fact that he may not even realize he had a soulmate.





	1. Darkness

i.

When the sunlight began creeping across the floor and up the bedspread, Sid felt as the body next to his shifted under the covers, rolling away from the intruding strands of yellow and gold and tucking his head into Sid's chest, letting out a soft puff of air before slipping back into a soft slumber.

Sid smiled at the familiarity of the motions as he tightened his arms around the younger man and snuck a glance at the clock on the nightstand to read the red digital numbers informing him it was still early, though he knew by the way his skin tingled with anticipation that sleep would not come easy.

For the time being though he was comfortable where he was, wrapped up with his soulmate pressed against his chest, the sky fading from black to a muted blue as the sun slowly traced its path through the morning sky.

When the incessant blaring alarm eventually cut through the peaceful silence, Sid and his partner pulled themselves from their bed, making their way into the shower where their bodies slid against each other as they worked through their morning routine, suds dripping across their lips and hands roaming as they stole quiet kisses in the early hours before the day's events would take over and competition would surge through their veins, masking all other thoughts and feelings of love and warmth and happiness completely.

Mere hours later as Sid entered the stadium and weaved through the halls more commonly walked by baseball players and other sports fans, Sid found himself marveling at the simplistic beauty of the concrete walls and piped ceilings that he had come to associate with sports arenas, grateful that he was in a position to play hockey on an international scale, bringing the sport to an outdoor arena where infinitely more fans could watch his team battle and fight to show their dominance, finesse and skill with an empowering performance.

Sid himself had been having a dominant season and despite his world renowned status as one of the best players in the game, even Sid could admit that he was having a good season, a great season even if the 83 points he had put up before the end of February said anything about his current level of play.

Which was why, despite who they were playing against in today's Stadium Series, Sid felt confident that all would remain right in his life, even if the Penguins were wearing their awful blue throwback jerseys. 

"Sid!" Flower shouted with a gleam in his eye when Sid entered the room, already executing his weird yoga-esque stretches on the carpeted floor.

"Hi Flower," Sid said with a put upon sigh, ruffling Flower's hair as he walked past the man much to the goalie's annoyance and headed to his stall across the room, situated in the center of his teammates so he could keep a watchful eye on proceedings.

"You ready captain?" Sid heard Tanger ask, turning his head to meet his friend's gaze, nodding curtly as he sat down to begin undoing his dress shoes, noting the familiar pull of his suit jacket against his shoulders though he refused to break his routine by taking it off first. 

For a few minutes Sid listened acutely as his teammates wandered in, conversations filling the musky air as suits were exchanged for under armour and jokes traded for game plans as many of the players prepared for their first taste of an outdoor game.

Sid was just pulling on his shin pads when a conversation down to his left caught his attention and he and Tanger both sat up intently as they listened in to the more serious topic.

"I can't believe we are playing an outdoor game and won't even be able to see it," Rusty said morosely, bent over to tie his skates as Sheary and Schultz nodded agreeably on either side of him.

"To be fair, you can see it, you just can't see all the colours," Olli corrected from a few stalls over, already dressed and ready to go as he usually was before anyone else.

"I know," Rust whined, "but all my life I've been told about these dazzling colours and the beauty of the jerseys when you get to see them for the first time and there will be 80,000 people outside in all different colours and I won't be able to experience that because I haven't met my soulmate yet."

"And who knows if we will ever have a chance to play another outdoor game," Schultz tacked on after a brief moment of silence, the locker room having gone quiet at the darker turn of conversation. 

"Is very bright" Geno said to break the silence, a considerate look on his face. "Not know what I see first time playing after meeting Anna, so many colours, is hard to focus on black puck when so much yellow everywhere."

"You were lucky though, at least you got to meet your soulmate in a quiet place where you could take it all in," Duper said thoughtfully from where he stood in his suit against the adjacent doorframe. "Imagine meeting your soulmate on the ice like Sid and suddenly being able to see 20,000 people in bright colours."

"It wasn't so bad," Sid said weakly, aware that everyone in the room was staring at him to gauge his reaction. "I was honestly more confused that I was meeting my soulmate on the ice than the fact that everything was suddenly bright orange."

"At least you can see orange," Sheary muttered under his breath. 

"It's pretty disorienting for the first little bit," Sid answered with a hum, thinking back to the moment all those years ago. "It's neat once you get used to it, but it's hard to get your head around. Also, you aren't missing much when it comes to today's game."

"Why?" Rust, Sheary, Schultz and a few of the other younger guys asked in almost perfect unison.

"You know when you look at the sun and it’s this blazing white shade that seems like nothing could possibly be brighter, even though the moon shines just as brightly, just the world around it is darker?" Sid asked, looking around the room and seeing understanding nods from players with and without soulmates, small smiles on the faces of those who were remembering the days of only seeing shades before Sid continued.

"The Flyers have these awful gaudy orange jerseys that kind of look like that ring around the sun and they are just as bright. Especially when you are outside the colour is just enhanced and it's so hard to focus when all you can see is the sun dancing around you. This is one of those moments where if I could turn the colours off I probably would."

"No, you wouldn't," a voice said darkly and Sid cringed visibly for his thoughtless remark as soon as he had said it, knowing full well who was speaking without having to turn and see as there was only one neutral in the Pens organization and his tragedy had been broadcasted internationally.

"Maybe not," Sid added with as much tact as he could manage considering the situation. "But the point still stands that you can have an incredible experience today regardless of whether you see in colours or shades."

"Also, the Flyers' jerseys are truly awful," Flower said with a grin, his high pitched laugh breaking the tension effectively as the group went back to preparing for the game, Sid chancing a look to his right and watching his teammate carefully as he retreated into a sullen silence, the pain on his face clear for anyone to see, though his red-tinged, tear-stained cheeks were that much harder to swallow for anyone who was actually able to see them.

"Would you actually prefer to play in shades again?" Tanger asked a few minutes later, a contorted expression visible on his face. 

"If I could turn it on and off I probably would yeah," Sid answered honestly, making eye contact with Geno who he had, had this very conversation with some months ago. "But if it meant losing my soulmate to do it then no."

"I can't even imagine," Kris said lowly, looking over to see an empty stall and realizing the person he was about to discuss was missing. "I have nightmares about waking up one day and everything is black and white again and realizing Catherine died. I don't know how you could come back from that."

"I don't think you do," Cullen said quietly from the other side of Geno. "He didn't."

Sid found himself nodding despite himself, knowing that the individual they were speaking about had very much so not recovered from the loss of his soulmate in a freak accident, evident in his missing presence.

"Do you think he could ever be a secondary?" Cullen asked after a moment, wondering out loud to the larger group of veterans nearby though he unintentionally spoke louder than intended, catching the attention of everyone currently in the room who immediately angled their bodies to face him.

"What's a secondary?" Murray asked with a raised brow, looking between the players who had soulmates as he awaited an answer.

"Legend says secondary is person who meet two soulmates," Geno said in his accented tone, his Russian pronounced as his parents were visiting for the game. "Primary is everyone who meet soulmate in person and see colours for first time. Secondary meet two soulmates."

"Wait, that's a thing?" Sheary questioned, clearly surprised and confused as to why he had never heard of it before.

"It's pretty rare," Duper cautioned, having moved closer at some point during the conversation. "There's a one in a million chance that you could meet a second soulmate. Once you lose your bond that's usually it for most people. Young neutrals are almost just as rare though. Usually you become a neutral due to old age."

"I thought primary soulmates were predetermined though?" Schultz asked with a confused expression. "Does that mean young neutrals are too?"

"It's a cruel twist of fate," Kris said heavily, drawing on experience from when his best friend had passed, leaving his wife a neutral who had taken her life not long after to be with him. "No one knows why most people killed in accidents are shades who haven't met their soulmates yet. A primary dying is relatively unheard of."

"Which is why you should never ask a neutral about their soul bond," Sid said seriously, taking the time to make eye contact with each individual in the room. "Neutrals need our support more than any other kind of person and since we have one on our team I don't want anyone else asking more questions like these after today. If you have any questions, you come find me one-on-one, do you understand?"

Everyone in the room nodded as Sid stood up and began pulling on his jersey, a surprised look passing across the face of all those watching as Sid skipped over part of his routine, stepping directly out of his stall and not around the garbage can as he usually did every game, his brain suddenly locked in an endless loop around the feeling of meeting his soulmate followed by the shocking revelation that it could all be taken away in an instance.

While the conversation changed to safer things and the team continued to get ready, Sid unconsciously slipped back into his standard game routine as he came back from grabbing his stick tape and found himself wondering what life would be like without his partner and shuddered at the thought, forcing himself to start thinking about the ensuing game instead. 

Which was why, as the team filed out of the room for introductions and Sid gave everyone pats of encouragement, running through his handshake with Geno before falling into line, all Sid could think about was how awful the particular shade of blue was on their throwback jerseys, not giving much thought to the sinking feeling in his gut from their earlier conversation that grew with every step closer to the chilly stadium series.

 

ii.

As expected, the crowd was incredibly loud and the visuals incredibly jarring as the multitude of colours melded into one another to create an overwhelming portrayal of hockey fans in their truest form.

Sid prepared himself mentally as the stadium announcer introduced the players from the Philadelphia Flyers one by one, smirking at a few names which were accompanied by either cheers or boos. 

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, Sid stepped forward to take the ice as his name was called, raising his stick to salute the crowd before leaning against his skate edges to slow himself down, coming to a halt beside Phil who was staring down focusedly at the blue line beneath the ice at their feet.

When his name was called again, Sid skated forward to center ice, coming face-to-face with Flyers captain Claude Giroux, sneering at him from across the ceremonial face off dot, causing a thunderous cheer to rise up from the crowd as they worked through the motions of battling for the puck, each bending down to pick up one of the two pucks and passing them to the waiting kids who were doe eyed and grinning from ear to ear as they accepted their prizes.

Sid turned to look at Giroux consideringly, mouth turning down in challenge when he saw the matching glare focused back on him, both foregoing the standard captain shake and skating in opposite directions back to their teams as the players began to skate around the ice, the Stadium Series game finally getting underway.

Midway through the first the score still read 0-0 though there had been some spectacular chances for both sides to no avail.

Flower and Mason were competing head on, save for save and shot for shot and Sid knew they were going to have to press Mason much harder if they wanted to get anything past him in his remaining nine minutes of the period.

A moment later Sid felt a distinct tap on his left shoulder, rising to his feet and throwing one leg over the boards as he waited for Kunitz or Geno to skate back to the bench so he could step on the ice, looking to his left briefly to see Sheary exchanging with Rust and anxiously awaiting his turn to do the same.

As soon as Kunitz's hand had touched the gate, Sid was over the board and barreling up the ice, pressing against one of the Flyers defenseman as he fought for possession of the puck, wrangling it away from the pressuring player and shooting an outlet pass to Sheary who cleared the zone, Sid falling suit a few steps behind as he crossed through the neutral zone and into the attacking end.

To his right, Sid saw as Hornqvist circled around the boards, sending the puck behind the Flyers net which Sid quickly retrieved, swearing under his breath when Simmonds stripped him of the puck and started racing the other way, tic tac toeing a passing play with his line mates before Olli returned the favour on an unexpecting Simmonds and threw the puck out to Sid who was alone behind the play.

With a quick turn on his edges, Sid breathed in the crisp winter air as he focused in on the open expanse of ice between he and Mason, picking up speed as he used his strong thighs to build momentum up the ice as he expertly strode through the opposing zone, turning on his heel to toe drag to the left, noticing a small gap between the top of Mason's right shoulder and the top of the net, a small three inch gap which would be just enough for Sid to sink the first goal of the game.

Pulling back on his stick, Sid waited as the world slowed down, a deep intake of air focusing his attention as the puck slid along the ice, his arms trembling slightly as he waited for his release, tracking the puck as he waited for exactly the right moment, his entire body turning with the motion of his shot just as a body collided forcefully into his legs, the impact sending Sid tumbling in a heap of limbs to the ice.

Pain screamed across his body as Sid's head thumped against the ice, legs flipping over his head as his body rolled with the force of the hit, his vision a mix of spinning ice, blue sky, black and blue fabric and an all-encompassing vibrant orange in the stadium before suddenly the world went black and dozens of cameras were left with the singular image of the crumpled body of Sidney Crosby prone on the sun lit ice.

 

iii.

When Sid awoke it was to an incessant beeping noise that reminded him of the alarm clock at his parents place, the crisp beeping suddenly cutting off as Sid slowly opened his eyes to find Tanger fumbling awkwardly with his phone.

Sid took a moment to take in his surroundings, establishing quickly that he was in a hospital bed and that gauging by the dull grey of the sky outside the window that it was early morning which meant he had slept through the night. 

On one side of the bed Tanger and Duper were pulling their heads up from the bed, wearily rubbing at their eyes as they tried to wake themselves up. On the other side, Geno and Flower watched the pair quietly, both men already awake after having taken the second Sid-watch as the foursome cautiously waited for their best friend and captain to wake up.

Sid assessed the dark grey bags under the eyes of his friends and the thick black scar along the side of Kris' cheek which indicated he had likely engaged in a fist fight during or after the game. Sid wasn't sure if he was more concerned that his friends were clearly in some level of emotional or physical pain or the fact that all four of them were steadfastly not looking in his direction. Sid found himself so focused on the four men in the room that he didn't notice the empty chair directly to his side which was still warm from the person who had been sitting there through the night.

Just as Sid was about to clear his throat, Flower ran a tired hand through his dark black locks, throwing a swift glance in his direction before the goalie froze in place, his gaze slowly shifting back over to meet Sid's own as he watched Flower's eyes widen in shock, their three friends quickly following suit as all four men began to shout in unison.

"Sid!"

"You're awake!"

"How are you feeling?"

"You bastard, how long have you been awake?"

"Not long," Sid said with a visible wince, the noise from his friends shouting washing over him and forcing a dull ache to build in the back of his skull, directly where he had smashed his head against the ice the previous day. "What happened?"

"What do you remember?" a deeper voice chimed in, Sid directing his attention to the man who had just entered the room, the light white of his hair contrasting against the light grey of his pallored skin.

"I...I got hit from behind," Sid said after a slight pause, his head ringing as he tried to sort through his thoughts. "Not sure who hit me, I just remember pain and my head bouncing off the ice and then waking up here. What happened?"

"Flyer player lose edge and fall down, slide into legs," Geno said with a murderous glare to answer Sid's question. "He try and catch up to stop goal from you but fall instead."

"So it wasn't on purpose?" Sid asked genuinely, his history with the Flyers incredibly marked, especially his long standing rivalry with the Flyers captain.

"No, but that doesn't make it okay," Flower said angrily, his own voice laced with venom. 

"Was anyone else hurt?" Sid asked after only a slight pause, trying to remember more from the accident and coming up blank.

"They took one of their players to the hospital as well for precautionary reasons, but released him last night. We've been here since the game ended," Duper said with a weary smile, placing his hand on Sid's calf through the hospital blanket.

"Who won?" Sid choked out, concerned with the expressions on his friends faces as they recounted the story. 

"6-1 Pens," Tanger said with a fierce glint in his eye which told Sid all he needed to know about the rest of the game and confirmed the origin of the scar on Kris' cheek.

"How does your head feel, Sidney?" the doctor asked and Sid startled at the reminder that there was another person in the room, turning his head to make eye contact with the other man who was watching him with a careful expression.

"Fuzzy," Sid answered truthfully. "My thoughts feel heavy. Clouded."

"Is the light from the sun bothering you?" the doctor inquired, making a note on his clipboard from Sid's previous answer.

"It's a dull ache at the back of my skull," Sid responded, only screwing up one word as he spoke. "Nothing like my last concussion."

"Well, you should be happy to know that despite your lack of consciousness over the last 12 hours, your brain scans came back relatively normal with only minor swelling in the lower region of the occipital lobe. You'll likely experience some dizziness and difficulty with light over the next few days, but the fuzziness and confusion should disappear shortly. All this considered, the injury could have been much worse."

"So he's okay, just like that?" Tanger asked incredulously as the doctor smiled at the defensive tinge to his tone.

"Well, I'd like to keep Sid in the hospital for a few more hours so we can do some more tests to establish the grade of his concussion, but physically other than being sore Sid is perfectly fine. I expect that with Sid's recollection of the accident and his ability to speak fluently without stumbling or stuttering over his words that we may be dealing with a low grade two concussion. But of course, these are only my initial thoughts and we'll need to do some more tests to rule out further damage due to his extensive experience with long-lasting concussions."

"I feel more okay than I think I should," Sid said honestly after the doctor had finished speaking, his friends turning back to look at him as he started to speak. "My head and my neck are sore, but I feel it should be worse considering how hard I went down."

"You should consider yourself very lucky that it's not worse," the doctor said with a weighted tone, marking down a few more notes on his clipboard as Sid turned his gaze back to his friends.

"We were so worried," Duper said quietly, the rest of Sid's friends nodding in agreement as he spoke. "I honestly thought that we'd get to the hospital and find out that this was going to be the end of your career."

"Pascal," Sid whispered, noting his friend's eyes filling with tears as he broke their gaze, looking down at the grey bedspread and wiping at his eyes. 

"I'm sorry I scared you," Sid said quietly in French, repeating the phrase in Russian which the doctor noted consideringly, internally surprised that the concussed man was able to pick up not one, but two other languages besides his own despite his brain being muddled.

"As long as you are okay," Tanger replied, his thought trailing off as he too surreptitiously wiped at his eyes, the room filled with an emotional tension that made Sid uneasy with the significance of it.

"At least we beat Flyers still," Geno started in an attempt to lighten the mood. "Always good when we beat ugly orange team."

"Hm," Sid huffed, feeling annoyance bubbling up in his chest. "That's not fair, Geno."

"What not fair?" Geno asked, his face and tone both demonstrating the surprise he was feeling at his friend's offended words.

"I don't see in colours yet, I still see in shades, how the hell am I supposed to know what orange looks like?" Sid asked defiantly, sticking his chin out for a few tense seconds before noting the looks of absolute shock painted on the faces of everyone else in the room.

"What did you just say?" Duper managed to ask a full sixty seconds later, finally closing his mouth from where his jaw had dropped open in surprise.

"I said, I can't see colours yet," Sid said as plainly as he could, trying to keep the annoyance in his tone at bay because all primaries knew better than to talk about colours with shades who hadn't seen them yet. "So I don't know what the colour orange is because I can't see it yet."

A tense silence settled over the group as Sid's friends exchanged horrified glances, finally all turning to look at the doctor who looked as shocked and confused as they were.

"Oh my," the doctor said succinctly, running a hand through his light blonde locks and pulling at the strands as he processed what he had just heard, looking down at Sid's chart and reading the name of his patients soul mate which was printed clearly in the top right corner of the chart. "Well isn't that something."

"What's going on?" Sid questioned, growing more and more confused as he looked between the five men, his confusion growing at the conspiratorial look his friends shared.

"I think I'd like to order those tests now," the doctor said in lieu of answering Sid's question, making another note on his chart and motioning for the four men to vacate the room despite Sid's protests.

"We'll be back after your tests are done mom amie," Duper said soothingly, somehow the most composed of the bunch as he ushered them from the room, tears already welling in their eyes as the weight of Sid's words settled into their bones and they began to process what had happened just as they came face to face with another man. 

"Claude," Flower said with a whisper, his voice watery with unshed tears as he looked upon the confused expression of the other man.

"What's going on? Is he awake?" Claude asked, looking between the four men and feeling his stomach plummet at the tears tracking down their cheeks, a devastated expression on their faces that appeared to be directed at him. "Let me go see him before he falls asleep again."

"We can't let you go in there," Tanger said lowly, placing a hand on Claude's chest as he started to move forward and gently but forcefully pushing him back.

"And why the fuck can I not go see my own soul mate?" Claude asked fiercely, his brows furrowing and his lips tightening as his expression quickly transformed from concerned to furious in the space of a few seconds. 

"Because he just referred to himself as a shade," Duper said quietly after ten tense seconds had passed, his gaze steady as he waited for his words to sink in, catching Claude around the chest as the man crumpled to the floor a moment later, a desperate wail escaping his chest when he finally put two and two together.

"No. No! But I can still see colours," Claude sobbed, tears pouring down his cheeks as his chest was racked with sobs from the crushing realization that his soul mate had lost their bond. "No, please!"

As the men in the hallway sunk to their knees and wrapped their best friends soul mate up in their arms, the man inside the room with the pain in his head stared curiously at the door, listening to the patient in the hallway who was having a breakdown and wondering if the concussion was worse than he thought as he thought he had seen a flash of something bright just as the door had closed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1) I've had this idea for ages and ages and I am so excited to finally be writing it! I got the idea for this fic after reading [15 Soulmate AUs](https://archiveofourown.org/works/3910180) by BoyGirlBothNoneImTheUniverse and just had to turn it into something. The initial idea is theirs, but I took the one AU and made it my own. Check out their story for the other 14!
> 
> 2) Huge thank you to scarletsptember who helped me figure out the idea more concretely and supported me every time I sent her random ideas for this universe at all hours of the day. Another huge thank you to ThePackWantsTheD who makes me a better writer and who is the reason I actually convinced myself to write this fic.
> 
> 3) I am so excited for this universe and I can't wait to hear what everyone thinks about the story so far and what they think will happen so I'd love to hear some thoughts in the comments. I haven't totally decided how long this is going to be, but I'm hoping people enjoy it as much as I enjoyed writing it!
> 
> 4) If you want to come hang out, you can find me at hobrerek.tumblr.com. I promise I don't bite - much.
> 
> 5) Last, but not least, HOCKEY IS BACK!!!!


	2. Darker Days

i.

Sid dozed on and off for the following hours of concussion tests, which included tests for his cognitive function, balance, his ability to handle light or loud noises and more tests than Sid would care for around his utter lack of ability to see anything that wasn't white, black or grey.

Around the third or fourth time that the medical aids asked Sid to identify a colour for them that they had pulled up on the screen, Sid finally lost his cool and snapped, sending them out of the room if they weren't going to explain to him what was going on. Several minutes later the three aids who had gone scurrying out of the room were replaced by a kind-looking older woman, whose grey hair was pulled up into a tight bun on the crown of her head.

"Hello Sidney," the doctor greeted with a warm smile which helped to put Sid somewhat at ease. "My name is Dr. Leslie Myles, I'm a psychologist with the Institute of Soul Bond Relationships. I've been told you wanted to speak with someone who would give you a better idea of what was going on, is that correct?"

"Yes, because no one will tell me why the heck everyone keeps asking me if I can see colours when I've told them a million times that I'm a shade," Sid grumbled under his breath, twisting his mouth up into a frown as he considered the doctor's title which didn't really apply in this situation before sighing and greeting Dr. Myles more directly.

"Thank you for coming to see me Doctor, I'm sorry for my attitude. It's just been a frustrating few hours, that's all."

"What about the last few hours have been frustrating?" Dr. Myles asked, setting herself up on a green chair near the end of the bed that kept her in Sid's line of vision so he wouldn't have to turn his head or adjust his gaze.

"This is completely confidential, right?" Sid hesitated before asking, his mouth releasing from it's straight line as the doctor pulled out an NDA agreement from her folder and stood to pass it to Sid, waiting the few minutes it took for Sid to read and process the agreement before he nodded curtly, motioning for a pen which the doctor quickly produced before both parties signed the parchment and resumed their previous positions.

"Thank you," Sid said quietly as he tried to process his thoughts now that the NDA had been signed and he knew he was in a strategic position to be able to speak to his inner turmoil.

"Everyone has been looking at me like I am some sort of lab experiment," Sid offered up after a few minutes of silence while Dr. Myles patiently waited, her soft expression never changing. "It's like everyone is waiting for me to break or something."

"Do you know why that is?" Dr. Myles asked gently, leaning back in her chair and crossing one leg which succeeded in straightening her posture and making her look smaller somehow at the same time.

"I thought it was because of my history of concussions," Sid started. "But..."

"But?" the doctor pushed.

"At first everyone seemed to be walking on egg shells around me while they were trying to figure out how bad my concussion was, but I was told hours ago that it was believed I had a grade two concussion, despite losing consciousness at the game."

"That is correct," Dr. Myles provided, her eyes watching Sidney intently.

"I told the doctors earlier that I was a shade, but they've had me doing all these different kinds of colour tests ever since and every time I ask why they just say they are 'testing all possibilities' whatever that means."

"Do you have any ideas as to why they are making you do these kind of tests?" the doctor asked after only a brief hesitation, having uncrossed her legs and leaned forward only moments before.

"What, is this some sort of exam?" Sid asked nervously, rubbing at the back of his head and wincing when his hand came into contact with the point of impact on the back of his skull which had transformed into a dark and disturbing bruise due to the popped blood vessels around the shaved area where the doctors had cut off his hair to examine the initial injury.

"No, but I'd like to hear your thoughts on the matter before we discuss anything further," the doctor replied ominously, Sid noticing a tightening of her expression and wondering if an earlier suspicion he had, had in passing may have been right.

"I'm not actually a shade am I?" Sid whispered, his voice dropping so low that if it hadn't been for the fact that Dr. Myles was leaning forward specifically for this reason, she may not have heard his words at all.

"No, you are not," Dr. Myles responded honestly, watching a series of expressions morph across her patient's face as he took the time to process this information.

"Did they die? Is that what caused the accident?" Sid asked hesitantly, not sure if he felt worse at the possibility of someone's death or the fact he didn't recall who the person was.

"Your soulmate is perfectly healthy," Dr. Myles responded after a moment. "Other than the emotional trauma they are experiencing from your incident, they are completely healthy."

"Emotional trauma?" Sid questioned, raising a brow. "Why would they care if we never did anything with our soul bond? It's just a platonic bond isn't it?"

"Not exactly..."

"What the hell does 'not exactly' mean?" Sid shouted, his anger surprising himself though Dr. Myles was unmoved by the outburst. "Do I or do I not have a soul bond?"

"Yes, you do have a soul bond and you have for a very long time. I'm not keeping things from you, Sidney."

"Then why won't you tell me anything!"

"Because I don't want to taint your picture of the truth," the doctor responded easily, crossing her legs once more and adjusting her grip on the clipboard in her hand.

"I...what does that mean?" Sid pressed, having grown more and more confused as the proceedings had gone on.

"It means that the fact you don't remember having met your soul mate or having developed a relationship is concerning, made worse by the fact that you've lost the ability to see colour. If I tell you about your relationship I'm worried that you may use what I've told you as a basis for your soul bond as opposed to the medical staff and I letting you remember it all on your own accord at which point we would allow you to see your soulmate to establish the damage that has incurred in your relationship."

"Wait, my soulmate is here?" Sid asked in surprise, racking his brain for any sort of memory for who his soulmate could be.

"They've been here all night, along with your four best friends and most of your teammates. Your family arrived here a few hours ago, but they are currently with team management deciding how to proceed on this matter."

"So why can't I see them now?" Sid questioned referring to his soulmate, wanting more than anything to know what was going on and who he was bonded to.

"Sid, you must consider what your soulmate is going through right now. Not only did they have to watch as their soulmate was injured in a freak play and carried off the ice on a stretcher, they were informed this morning after spending the night at your bed side that you were referring to yourself as a shade and had lost the ability to see colour. What's more damaging is the fact that your soulmate informed the medical staff this morning that they can still see the full spectrum of colours available to them which makes the situation even more unique."

"Wait, so I've lost my bond and they haven't?" Sid asked in shock, his mouth dropping open after he finished speaking. "So what, does that make me a neutral?"

"Not necessarily. A neutral is described as someone who has lost their soulmate due to a tragic incident always resulting in death of one or both of the two partners. As both you and your soulmate are alive and well you do not currently fall into that category."

"Have you ever heard of anyone losing their bond before though?" Sid finally asked after a long moment of silence, feeling tears prickling at the back of his eyes and hating himself for feeling sad for something he never remembered having.

"Yes, but the last known case was more than twenty years ago. There have been incidents where after traumatic head injuries a person has forgotten who their soulmate was, but never in my 35 years as a psychologist with the ISBR have I heard of someone losing their soul bond while their soulmate was still alive and within close proximity. Thus what makes this so difficult in choosing how to proceed as we have no examples for best practices."

"And my...soulmate. They um, they don't want to see me?"

"Can you blame them?" Dr. Myles asked, a tense silence falling over the room as Sid considered her words.

"She must hate me," Sid allowed after another tense silence, surprised yet again when the doctor's eyebrows immediately shot up. "Erm, he?"

"Are you asking or telling me?" Dr. Myles wondered, watching the expressions that crossed Sid's face as he processed this information.

"I'm not gay," Sid said finally, staring down at his hands determinedly.

"Are you sure about that, Sidney?" Dr. Myles said with a small smile, akin to the ways of Sid's life with his soulmate and their admittedly public relationship.

"Am I at least out?" Sid relented after another brief pause, figuring it was better to at least be honest with the person who was here trying to help fix him.

"You have been for many years, yes," Dr. Myles responded with a smile which was genuine enough that it helped Sid relax just the tiniest bit as he tried to wrap his head around his current situation.

"Does he hate me?"

"Of course not, Sidney, don't be silly," Dr. Myles chided her patient immediately. "Your partner loves you and always will, but right now the medical staff, your partner and your family need you to focus on getting yourself better and back to the best you that you can be. He has assured us all that he will still be here regardless of the outcome."

"But what happens if I don't ever remember who he is or our relationship?"

"In all honesty, Sidney, I'm really not sure."

 

ii.

The hand petting through his hair did enough to soothe the soft cries that were gurgling up in his chest, but Claude had yet to manage to keep the tears completely at bay, his face buried into the thigh of Trina Crosby who was whispering sweet nothing's into his ear as he wept into her leg.

Claude had gone to pick up his in-laws as soon as they had landed in Philadelphia and had been a sobbing mess ever since. He had made it less than two miles out of the airport before Troy Crosby was urging Claude to pull over and was guiding him from the front seat to sit between Taylor and Trina in the back, the two ladies wrapping themselves around Claude who broke completely in the 45 minute drive back to the hospital.

Now early evening, Claude sprawled across the couch that had been set up in a private waiting room down the hall from Sid's hospital room and let the tears track down his cheeks as Trina continued her ministrations, the rest of the room's occupants watching with dull eyes as nothing they could say was possibly going to make the situation better.

"Seven years," Claude said out loud to no one in particular. "We've been bonded for seven years and married for four and he doesn't even remember who I am."

"Sh, sweetie, you can't think like that," Trina whispered for the dozenth time that day. "Just because he doesn't remember right now, doesn't mean he's not ever going to remember who you are. Sid loves you more than anything in this world."

"Sid 'loved' me more than anything in this world," Claude spat bitterly, placing extra emphasis on the word loved. "How can he love someone he doesn't know?"

"He fell in love with you once though, C. Maybe he could do it again?" Taylor supplied helpfully from her position across the room where she sat with Flower, Tanger and Pascal, Geno and Troy taking up space on the adjacent couch where they could keep an eye out on the door.

"That's stupid and you know it," Claude said angrily, his voice dripping with venom though Taylor knew that it wasn't directed at her.

"You should go see him," Duper said quietly after they had all lapsed into silence following Claude's latest outburst. "Maybe all he needs to remember is to see you?"

"And then what?" Claude said with a sneer, sitting up and rubbing deftly at his eyes, scrubbing his hands across his face and wiping his nose on the sleeve of his shirt for the umpteenth time that day. "What would you do if Carole-Lyne didn't remember you? You just want me to walk in there knowing damn well he's not going to know who I am and then ask me to be okay? Because I am telling you right now that I am not okay and I am not going to go have the love of my life and my soulmate tell me that he doesn't want me."

"It's not that he doesn't want you," Tanger supplied, his brow furrowing at the pain that was so evident on the other man's face. "He just doesn't know that he wants you right now. The doctor said they are running tests on his brain to see if his ability to see colour is what's damaged. You can still see colours, so maybe he's not a shade again and his brain is just broken?"

"Is that supposed to make me feel better?" Claude asked with a menacing stare, glaring at Kris for a long moment until he finally turned away. "Either our soul bond is broken and he doesn't remember who I am or his brain is damaged and our soul bond is still intact but he still doesn't remember who I am. What the hell am I supposed to do with that?"

"Go see him," Geno replied, looking up at Claude who was now standing and pacing around the room. "Sid very sad whenever he not see you. I sure broken Sid is same way."

"Still not helping," Claude muttered, ignoring the look he saw Trina and Troy exchange as he walked from one end of the room to the other.

"How were things this morning?" Trina asked a few minutes later after finally getting the courage to speak up. "Were things good between you two?"

"Things were totally fine," Claude said as he stopped pacing to consider the question. "We woke up, had a shower together like we always do, made breakfast and then went downstairs for a quick workout. Sid said he wanted to spend the morning together because both of us are stubborn sons of a bitch when we lose and he wanted to enjoy the morning before one of us inevitably lost. We kissed, he told me he loved me and that he'd see me after the game and then he got in his car and the next time I saw him was when we were on the ice and they were announcing the lineups."

"You weren't fighting at all?" Trina pushed, thinking back on something Sid had said the previous week about being frustrated with his partner.

"Sid was annoyed at me last week but we talked it out and things were fine as of this morning," Claude answered. "We got it out of our systems before the week had even began."

"Why does that sound like code for you fucked each other's brains out?" Taylor said with a grimace. Even though she loved Sid and Claude with all of her heart, she did not need to hear about their sex lives no matter how much they wanted her to know.

"It doesn't matter now does it?" Claude asked sadly, his head drooping as he sank down to the floor beside the couch and leaned his head back against Trina's thigh once more.

"What if he doesn't ever remember me or our relationship?" Claude whispered into Trina's thigh though everyone in the room heard his broken words.

"I don't know, Claude," Trina answered honestly, petting her fingers through his orange hair and looking at her second son with a devastated expression on her face. "I'm really not sure what happens then."

 

iii.

 **Patrice:** It's not true is it??

 **Patrice:** Has Sid really lost the ability to see colour?

 **Seggy:** WHAT?! Where did you hear that from?

 **Benn:** Yeah, Patty. Where did you hear that from??

 **Weber:** I told him. I called to see if he knew anything more.

 **Duchene:** Okay, so where did YOU hear that from?

 **Tazer:** I'm at the hospital right now with the team. I told Shea.

 **Getzy:** oh shit ur there? How is he?

 **Tazer:** They won't let anyone see him.

 **Marchy:** But?

 **Tazer:** It's not good.

 **Keith:** Not good as in his concussion is really bad?

 **Burnzie:** Or end of his career kind of not good?

 **Tazer:** Worse.

 **Benn:** Back up. Tell us what you know so far.

 **Price:** And don't be dramatic, Jon. This is serious.

 **Tazer:** I'm not being dramatic you asshole, that's for you dick head goalies.

 **Tazer:** It is actually worse than the end of his career.

 **Tazer:** because when he woke up he referred to himself as a shade.

 **Seggy:** Holy shit

 **Stamkos:** You've got to be kidding me?

 **Thornton:** No fucking way...

 **Alex:** What the fuck??

 **PK:** Seriously???

 **Tavares:** So what does that mean exactly?

 **Sharpy:** It means he and Claude lost their soul bond.

 **Seggy:** Holy shit.

 **Price:** I take it back, Jon. Holy shit.

 **PK:** Poor Claude...

 **Corey:** I can't even imagine becoming a neutral so young...

 **Kuni:** It gets worse still.

 **Benn:** Worse? How? Meaning what??

 **Tazer:** Meaning Claude can still see colours. Sid's the only one who can't.

 **Kuni:** And he doesn't remember ever having a soulmate.

 **Tazer:** Or who his soulmate was.

 **Seggy:** Holy shit

 **Boums:** Those poor guys.

 **Holtby:** For how long?

 **Tavares:** That's a good question, Holts. How long are they expecting this to last?

 **Kuni:** Hold on, doc just came back

 **PK:** Hello? It's been like 15 minutes

 **Tazer:** Sorry, just finishing up.

 **Price:** So what did the doctor say?

 **Kuni:** Fuck guys

 **Seggy:** What??

 **Kuni:** They ran some tests to see if it was the part of his brain that was damaged

 **Kuni:** And maybe that's why he couldn't see colours and Claude still can

 **Burnzie:** But???

 **Tazer:** That part of his brain is perfectly fine.

 **Benn:** Meaning??

 **Tazer:** That Sid's half of the soul bond is gone.

 **Stamkos:** For how long?

 **Kuni:** By the sounds of it? Forever.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1) Hello, I'm back! I was originally planning on updating this fic every Monday, but it's been two weeks so I don't totally know what to tell you...I will try and be better though here moving forward.
> 
> 2) I'm super overwhelmed by how much love this fic has gotten in the form of kudos, comments, bookmarks and subscriptions which is kind of crazy?? Thank you to everyone who has taken the time to show me some love so far, it means the world to me!!
> 
> 3) I feel like this chapter was more angry than angsty?? But if you are wondering if the story is going to get better, the short answer is this: not yet.
> 
> 4) I'd love to hear from you guys on what you think of this chapter since it's a bit different than how I usually write! Also, I'd love to hear some predictions on where you think this is going to go next!
> 
> 5) If you are also upset at me for hurting one or both of your babies like some of my friends, please take a quick respite from the angst and read my latest one shot [Push My Buttons](https://archiveofourown.org/works/8375356) which is literally just my attempt at a humourous fluff piece
> 
> 6) Finally, as always, come hang out at hobrerek.tumblr.com and we can talk grilled cheesby and hockey. Much love, until next time!!


	3. Faded

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've updated the rating on this fic due to some mature content in this chapter. The details surrounding the death of the aforementioned neutral's partner are described and the resulting car crash that killed them, so if this makes you uncomfortable the lead in to this section is incredibly obvious to give you time to skip. Other then that, I am sorry in advance.

The sun crested the horizon just as Claude walked up the steps towards the black painted door, hesitating for only a moment before rapping his knuckles in quick succession against the hard surface and waiting for any sound of movement from within.

A full minute passed before Claude caught movement out of the corner of his eye and turned to see another man eyeing him warily through the pulled down blinds beside the door, before a loud noise echoed throughout the house as a lock was pulled back and the door swung open to reveal a very disgruntled looking Phil Kessel.

"Claude," was all Phil spoke in greeting, stepping back and gesturing for Claude to step across the threshold, his face having gone stony as soon as he had revealed himself, no doubt wary having an enemy player making his way into his personal abode.

"Um, hi?" Claude said after a long moment, toeing his shoes off and leaving them neatly alongside the other pairs in the entrance hall as he avoided Phil's gaze. "Thanks for letting me in?"

"You called and asked," Phil said dryly, which did nothing to tamp down how uncomfortable Claude felt as Phil's gaze bore into his own, though Claude knew he needed to have this conversation more than anything which was why he was here, comfortable or not.

Claude followed as Phil turned on his heel and walked back into his house, taking them into a large room with an open floor layout which contained the kitchen, dining room and living room all in close proximity, with a staircase leading to the second floor which looked as if it contained all the bedrooms as best as Claude could make out on a quick glance as he followed Phil to the couch.

As Phil settled himself in, Claude perched on the edge of the couch cushion and took a moment to look around, noting how the walls were barren of any photos or personal items, the mantelpiece above the fireplace void of any trinkets or mementos and instead carrying a few books that were precariously stacked and a vase that looked like it hadn't been moved in years.

The kitchen and the dining room were in similar states, with nothing out of position from how the house had likely come, so immaculate in its presentation that one might think they were visiting a show home instead of visiting the home of one of the most prolific players currently in the NHL.

Claude let his eyes travel around the room a few more times, looking for something, anything that might give him a hint to the mental state of the other man, but the utter lack of colour or personalization spoke volumes to how well Phil was handling the cards that life had dealt him.

"Dull, isn't it?" Phil asked after a moment, breaking Claude out of his reverie as his eyes snapped to the other man's, cheeks colouring when he realized that Phil had been watching him as he had assessed his household.

"I don't blame you," Claude said after swallowing down the lump in his throat, holding Phil's gaze as he did so.

"What can I say? Didn't see the point in decorating any differently. Very considerate of the Penguins organization to get me a house where I can at least see everything," Phil responded, voice dripping with sarcasm and hurt, though Claude knew from what Sid had told him that Phil had at the time been very appreciative.

"I imagine it's cheaper to decorate when everything is black and white," Claude replied with as little emotion as he could muster, lips quirking when Phil let out a surprised bark of laughter.

"Most people don't acknowledge it when they are here," Phil said with a small smile, his shoulders having released a bit of their tension.

"It's sort of hard to ignore that your entire house is black and white," Claude said blandly, though this time he included a soft smile to lessen the impact of his words.

"It pisses me off when I look at it, but if I had to live in a house that was colourful I'd probably be more pissed off, so what can I say?"

"Because you wouldn't be able to see it or because you used to be able to see it and now you can't?" Claude asked hesitantly.

"Both. Neither. All of the above," Phil replied cryptically. "Benefit of being a neutral is everyone is so fucking scared of you they don't really ask."

"Would you prefer if people asked?"

"Not really," Phil said succinctly, the question immediately dying on Claude's lips as he had been about to ask the very thing Phil didn't want him to know.

The pair lapsed into silence as Claude continued to look around the other man's house, his eyes picking up on small nuances he had missed the first look around, gaze settling on the trees that drifted in the breeze outside the back window, the long line of pines blocking the rest of the world out.

"Seems a little bit cruel to put a forest at your back door," Claude said with some consideration, his eyes tracking back and forth between two kinds of trees as a frown developed on his face, a motion that did not go unnoticed by Phil.

"It could be worse."

"How so?" Claude asked with a hint of anger in his tone, turning his attention back to Phil who was still watching him with appraising eyes.

"It would be worse if I was in downtown and everything was black and white all the time. All anyone ever talks about in downtown is the colour of the bridges and the sun on the water and the colour of the leaves and it sickens me. At least out here it's only a few colours I can't see."

A long moment passed as Claude watched Phil who had turned to look outside the back window, his eyes tracking over the tips of the trees which were covered in snow from the latest storm, pines peeking out periodically down the line.

"At least I still remember what they used to look like, like the fact that your shirt is olive green," Phil said quietly, his voice so soft that Claude almost didn't hear him, though the pain that punched through his chest told him that he had heard the other man correctly.

"Even after all these years?" Claude asked, looking down at his shirt in confusion.

"It's fading, but it's there," Phil replied honestly, though he lapsed into silence instead of offering up any more anecdotes on the topic.

"Did it all just disappear like that?" Claude finally asked with a snap of his long fingers, nudging the conversation in the direction he had intended for it to go, though he felt guilty about it all the while.

"Yes," Phil said simply, looking at Claude again before leaning back into the couch cushions and staring resolutely at the ceiling, ignoring the pain in his neck as he stared at the white stipple above him. "One blink I was standing to the right of the faceoff dot in a sea of blue and the next blink everything had gone dark. We are all taught about what it means in school when the world goes back to black and white, but to have it happen in the middle of a game, in the middle of a sea of colour and then the entire world suddenly going dark...the switch from life as a primary to life as a neutral..."

Claude found himself nodding along sadly, familiar with the scene that Phil was depicting as it had been on the front page of every paper, every news site for weeks after the incident, the video of Phil dropping to his knees and wailing in anguish etched into the mind of every shade and every primary in the NHL and all those outside of it who couldn't connect to the pain of losing ones soul bond.

"Toronto was playing Vancouver that night," Claude recalled as he mentally watched the video on repeat in his head. "The entire audience was blue except for the coaches and the linesman."

"That's how I knew it was real," Phil said after a moment, still staring at the ceiling. "When I finally looked up to confirm that everything was black and white my eyes wouldn't adjust to the shades until I looked at the linesmen. Then it became real."

"No one even helped you," Claude said in disgust, remembering the first time he had watched the video, his eyes tracking over the other players on the ice who had stared at Phil like he was some sort of alien creature instead of anyone stepping forward to help him, Bozak eventually coming off of the bench and helping urge Phil from the ice where everyone around them in the arena had gone silent.

"Lovely people in Toronto," Phil replied haughtily, voice filled with sarcasm once more.

"You played there for three years after?"

"There aren't that many teams that are willing to take on a neutral in their organization," Phil supplied, though his voice was distant. "She'd never forgive me if I had stopped playing hockey..."

"But you never asked for a trade sooner?" Claude asked, knowing he was pushing, but genuinely curious to get some insight into what had been a difficult situation.

"She's in Toronto," Phil finally offered up, his face darkening as tears pooled in the back of his eyes. 

"Phil..." Claude's voice trailed off, not knowing what to say. 

"I was halfway home to Philly from visiting Sid when I heard about the accident on the radio," Claude started after a moment of silence, his own voice growing distant as Phil chanced a look at the other man and recognized the pain on his face as he continued to talk to fill the silence. "I had to pull over when I heard. The radio station kept playing the audio of the moment over and over again and all I could hear was your scream when you realized what had happened."

"I called Sid as soon as I got myself together and he didn't answer so I called again and again and again until finally he woke up and answered the phone. It was only 8:30 but he had been tired so he had gone to bed."

"When I told him what happened his legs gave out and he fell back against the cupboard and knocked over a glass which broke on the floor beside him. I told him how much I loved him and he told me he loved me back and I just kept saying it over and over until I was convinced he believed me. I probably stayed on the side of the road for close to an hour afterwards, Sid just whispering in my ear and telling me that he was okay and that we were okay..."

Claude didn't need to look up to know that Phil was watching him, but he couldn't bring himself to meet his gaze, unsure of what he would see until he finished saying what he needed to say.

"Sid stayed on the phone with me the entire drive back, even though he was tired. When I got home we face timed and I was so relieved when I saw his face and realized he was okay that I just broke down crying. I don't think I had believed he was okay until then."

"We didn't go to bed until 2:30 in the morning, just watching videos of the incident and people's reactions on either end of the line, reading stories of what had happened together, but I was so focused on Sid that I didn't notice how much hate you were getting. Then I went to sleep, woke up in the morning, called Sid and when he answered I went on with life until finally everyone stopped talking about it."

"And forgot about me," Phil tacked on, though his voice was oddly soft.

"Yeah," Claude responded with a loud gulp. "And then I forgot about you and went on with my own selfish life."

"I wouldn't wish this pain on anybody," Phil said to appease Claude. "Not even on people I hated."

"That doesn't make it okay that we forgot about you though either," Claude retorted.

"We didn't even know each other back then," Phil pointed out. "If we had been friends and had been in each other's social circles then maybe I would have been offended. But you were just a number on a jersey of an opposing team until I came to Pittsburgh and met you as Sid's husband. I don't blame you or anything."

"You should."

"You've shown me nothing but kindness since I've met you, even when I was being awful to you or I was having a bad day. I don't blame you for not calling me Claude."

"Then who do you blame?"

"The person that killed her."

The words died on Claude's lips as his mouth dropped open in shock, the anger clearly visible on the other man's face as his entire expression hardened with his words, his pain etched into his features with the wrinkles around his eyes and lips from where he spent so much time frowning or keeping his expression under control.

"They said it was an accident..." Claude whispered, unable to raise his voice any higher.

"Of sorts," Phil responded shortly.

"It was on purpose?" Claude questioned, his brow furrowing with the weight of his own words.

"You remember the headlines from that day, right?" Phil asked, his gaze once again burning into Claude's.

"They said it was a drunk driver who hit her car, pushed her off the edge of the road down an embankment where she died on impact."

"He committed suicide," Phil said with an air or anger that Claude was slowly beginning to understand. "He left a note at home for his wife that he didn't want to live anymore and he wanted to cause pain to someone else to make them feel what he had been feeling."

"But that doesn't mean it was on purp-"

"In the note he told his wife he was going to drive out to the road and wait for the first car he saw and take them both over the edge," Phil interrupted.

"She was the first car he saw," Claude said in realization, the shock washing over him.

"She was the second car he saw, he chickened out on the first one. The first driver heard the crash after passing him and came back, called the police."

"That's how they got there so fast," Claude nodded along, trying to envision the accident now that he had some backstory. "But it was too late."

"She died on impact."

"And the guy who did it died as well?"

"So I don't even have anyone I can be angry at," Phil said with a hint of sarcasm, his brow flexing as his face morphed through a series of expressions. "Because the fucking coward offed himself."

Claude sat stunned for several moments as he watched Phil watching anything but him, his mouth still partially hanging open at the revelations he had learned in the past fifteen minutes, surprised that Phil was opening up to him, though a part of him wasn't sure he was ready to have this type of knowledge.

"Why didn't the media ever tell that part of the story?" Claude finally asked, making sure to hold his gaze when Phil flicked a look in his direction.

"He's not a coward for taking his own life," Phil said eventually, though Claude was certain that at least three minutes had passed. "I get not wanting to live anymore, I fight that battle every day. But I'm so fucking angry at him for taking her from me. She was so perfect, so pure. She made me a better person. Now I'm angry, sad and alone and if she were here I know she'd be yelling at me to get up and live my life but I can't. I just can't without her. I'm nothing without her."

"You're still Phil," Claude said softly, surprised at the amount of words Phil had strung into one moment, the man usually quiet and reserved and to the point.

"I don't even know if that means anything anymore."

"It does to me," Claude spoke resolutely. "And it does to your team and to your family and to the friends that you haven't kicked out of your life yet. I know it feels like it since I am starting to get an idea of what it must be like, but you aren't alone."

"You sound like my mom who keeps trying to get me to go to a support group," Phil said bitterly.

"Why don't you want to go?"

"And what? Talk to a bunch of sad old men and women who lost their partners and can't see all the wonderful fucking colours of the world and who sit in a circle and talk about their feelings? No fucking thanks."

"So what? Staying at home sad and alone, not talking about your feelings at all and hating everyone in the world is a better option?"

"I'd say you don't know what it's like," Phil said with a huff. "But I guess you do so I don't really have an excuse for that."

"It's only an excuse if you make it one. If you say Stella wouldn't want you to live like this then you owe it to her to not live like this anymore. If that means going to a support group then fine. If that means seeing a therapist then fine. If that means getting shit faced a couple of times and crying then fine. Sitting here and feeling sorry for yourself is not fine."

"Feeling sorry for myself?" Phil responded dangerously, his tone darker than Claude had ever heard it before, though he forced himself to power on.

"What would you call it?"

"Grieving?" Phil replied maliciously.

"It's been three years, Phil. If that's not called feeling sorry for yourself then I don't know what is."

"How could you say that to me?" Phil asked with as much shock in his voice as there was anger present.

"Because someone has to," Claude said with a steely expression. "And because my soulmate doesn't know who I am anymore and if you can't get help and get better then there's no chance for someone like me. I need you to get better as much as I need to find a better way to deal with this situation and come to terms with the fact that Sid doesn't remember who I am, nor does he want to remember who I am."

"You don't know that," Phil replied stunned, his own jaw having dropped at the boldness of the younger man's words. 

"It's been eight days, Phil. He's still in the hospital getting treatment while the doctor's try and figure out what's wrong with him and every day they ask him if he remembers who his soulmate is and every day he says no. It's not going to come back."

"Your soul bond?"

"Yes, our fucking soul bond is gone and there is nothing I can do about it and for the last week everyone in my life has been so fucking pitying about the whole thing and encouraging me and telling me that maybe just maybe he will remember who I am. It's fucking bullshit," Claude yelled angrily.

"So why are you here?" Phil asked after a moment, curiousity seeping into his tone. "You'd think talking to me would make you more sad."

"Because I know you won't pity me because you have it worse," Claude said with a cruel honesty, feeling the pain spike in his chest at the crushed look on Phil's face.

"Is that all I am to you? A look into something worse?" Phil asked, his voice having gone dark again with a clouded emotion.

"No," Claude spoke with finality. "You're a friend who has always supported Sid and I's relationship, even when it was difficult. I just need to be around someone who understands what I am going through, it isn't pity. I did pity you, for a long time. But now that I see your view of the world it's not pity I have for you but respect."

"For what? For holing myself up in my house in the woods and ignoring the world?"

"For carrying on."

"That doesn't even make sense," Phil replied with a scrub of his hands across his face.

"After Stella died, you took some time off to grieve, but then you came back to hockey and kept playing right?"

"Yes?"

"The Flyers have given me a personal leave of absence from the team," Claude said with an air of someone who was utterly lost. "And the thought of going back to play a game I love without the person I love, who may still very well play again but without ever knowing about our relationship...without ever knowing about me..."

"It's the worst thing you could possibly imagine in the world."

"Yeah."

"I get that," Phil said, his voice having softened now that he understood where Claude was coming from, though he still hadn't completely broken down the walls he had started to put up at Claude's previous comments. "I get why you came now."

"I just need to be around someone who isn't going to tell me it's going to be okay," Claude whispered, dropping his head into his hands as he mumbled, "It's not okay."

"It's not ever really going to be okay," Phil said after a long moment. "But it does get easier."

"Yeah, that's what I had figured," Claude said morosely.

"How long were you guys together?" Phil questioned some time later, sensing that Claude had come because he needed someone to talk to who didn't already know the entire situation.

"We've been bonded and in a relationship for seven years and married for three."

"Almost eight and four though, right?"

"Yeah, our anniversary would have been in three weeks."

"Is it true you met him on the ice for the first time?" Phil asked, legitimately not knowing the answer since he had already been a neutral by the time he had met Sid and Claude for real and most people didn't talk about their soul bonds around him usually.

"Yeah. I guess we had passed each other in the hall earlier that day, not directly near each other, but I had seen this flash of what turned out to be orange and I freaked out, ran to Danny in fear that I had suddenly seen a flash of colour near the penguins dressing room."

"What did Danny say?" Phil asked.

"He told me not to be stupid and that if my soulmate was nearby it was probably a member of staff or something and that I should check out the ladies later and see if I could narrow it down."

"He didn't know you were gay at that point?"

"He didn't know I was gay until I had a full on panic attack in the dressing room during the first intermission and told him that I had just bonded with Sidney Fucking Crosby," Claude recalled, not seeing the smile on Phil's face at the use of the swear between Sid's first and last name which was all too common around the league. "Then he asked and I told him the truth."

"Did the rest of the guys on your team know at that point too?"

"It definitely wasn't hard to figure out," Claude said sullenly. "I didn't exactly handle it very well."

"The fact you had bonded to a guy or the fact you had bonded to Sid?"

"The fact I had bonded at all," Claude said honestly. "I always thought I was going to be a permanent shade, since most people bond when they are younger. We were both 20 when we bonded and all of a sudden all I can see is this overwhelming orange colour and this young kid with an overbite staring at me in shock. I almost fainted."

"When I met Stella I almost fainted," Phil supplied after a considering moment. "We were in the woods and we bumped into each other under this massive oak tree. We had been running away from home and that's how we met each other. We always use to go back there for dates and for our anniversaries, just to remember where it all began."

"You asked to be near a forest didn't you?" Claude said with some surprise, turning to look out the window with a soft smile on his face.

"It reminds me of her."

"I like that."

"Me too. Now go on, you bonded on the ice, then what?"

"I was so shaken up that I was absolutely useless for the rest of the game, the coach ended up essentially benching me in the third. Sid went on to score two goals and two assists the bastard."

"That sounds like Sid," Phil said with a grin. "Then what?"

"I ignored him for the next month," Claude said with a sharp laugh. "We met February 21, 2009 and I didn't talk to him until he cornered me the next time we played each other in Pittsburgh on March 22 of that year and told me that I was stupid."

"How romantic," Phil commented dryly.

"That's what I said!" Claude said with a laugh, moving forward on the cushions from where he had settled back earlier, his face and voice colouring as he talked about his soulmate which Phil noted with sadness. "Sid just looked at me like I was an idiot and told me he was taking me out for dinner after the game and we were going to decide what we wanted to do."

"And then?"

"And then we went for dinner and I was awkward and nervous for the first little bit and then we started talking about hockey and I realized how smart he was and how he was so good at seeing the game and then I realized how witty he was and how funny he was and then..."

"And then you started to fall in love," Phil finished once Claude trailed off, lost in his own dark thoughts.

"I've been in love with him ever since. We actually got married on the 22nd because when I told him what I just told you he said he felt the same way and he wanted to remember it. So we got married March 22, 2013 even though Sid had a game that night, much to the chagrin of our teams who we hadn't told."

"How the hell did you get married on a game day?" Phil asked in surprise.

"Optional skate. We got up at six in the morning with all our close friends and family who we had flown in the day before and went and set up and then got married on an ice rink in Mario's backyard at around noon. The Flyers played Pittsburgh on the 24th so the team had just gone to Pittsburgh early so most of the guys had been there. Sid's coach had been pissed when only a few rookies showed up to the optional practice and even more pissed when he found out Mario had known."

"That's hilarious," Phil said with a gentle laugh, trying not to disrupt the moment since he knew Claude was eventually going to come back down from his current high.

"It was pretty funny. So we got married and then Sid went for his game day nap and went out and got two assists that night and then he came home and we holed up for two days with each other and just spent two days married before playing each other on the 24th and then I had to leave to finish our road trip. We went on a fishing trip in the summer and then to fiji after that for our honeymoon."

"Sounds pretty nice."

"Yeah...it was," Claude said sadly, coming back down as Phil had suspected he would, his face clouding over with pain. "And then my own teammate took it all away from me."

"Are you angry at him?" Phil asked after a long moment of silence had passed. "At Simmonds?"

"I haven't talked to him since it happened," Claude admitted angrily. "He should have just let him go. So what if Sid scores, we have a good team, we could have bounced back. The whole play was stupid and it cost me my soulmate, so damn right I'm angry at him."

"It wasn't like it was on purpose," Phil supplied, though he realized the irony in doing so.

"Whether it was purposeful or not, it doesn't give me my husband back," Claude said fiercely, his teeth clenching with a suppressed anger that frightened Phil in how much it reminded him of how he was three years ago.

"He's one of your best friends."

"Best friends can be replaced," Claude retorted, his anger clearly the primary emotion he was feeling. "I don't care how many texts or voicemail's he leaves me. The reality is it was his decision that injured Sid and his decision that cost me my soulmate. I don't know how you are ever supposed to forgive that."

"You forgave Sid for hurting you in 2012," Phil pointed out.

"Yes, but Sid and I both play hard games," Claude retorted without hesitation. "I wasn't mad at him, I knew how bad Sid felt for hurting me and he was at the hospital with me and stayed with me every day after I had gotten the surgeries. The injuries healed quicker because of our soul bond and the fact we were in close proximity, as is common with soulmates."

"Is that why his head is getting better so quickly?"

"I've been going to the hospital, just not seeing him," Claude admitted. "Wayne took that away from me too."

"Your still his captain."

"Yeah, well. Maybe I just won't go back."

A quiet gasp escaped Phil's lips despite his best attempts to reign it it and Claude turned to look at him with emotionless eyes as he considered the other man's expression.

"You can't mean that."

"I can mean it and I do. I know losing Stella was hard, but Sid is still here I just don't have him anymore. How can anyone expect me to go back and face him game after game, face hearing about him game after game, being compared to him game after game, being the focus of attention due to my loss game after game? How can anyone ask me to do that?"

"You love hockey," Phil said with determination, having clued in on something when Claude's gaze drifted back out to the tree line.

"I love Sid more."

"But you still haven't gone to see him."

"And what if he doesn't remember me?" Claude asked, his face pleading Phil to understand. "Imagine Stella waking up one day and not remembering who you were or everything you had done together."

"But what if he does remember you?" Phil asked, ignoring the pain from the mention of his fiancé’s name.

"I don't think he will," Claude said cryptically, twisting his wedding ring around his finger absently which he was apparently still wearing, Phil watching the movement with interest as Claude continued to stare resolutely at the trees.

"How long?" Phil asked, waiting for Claude to look at him.

"How long for what?" Claude responded, raising a brow in confusion when he eventually turned to meet his gaze.

"You know what," Phil said with a quick side eye to the tree line, watching as Claude followed his gaze before swallowing visibly, his gaze dropping down to his hands.

"A couple of days. Three at most."

"All of them?" Phil asked, his face considering as he waited for the answer.

"I can tell you that the sun is yellow, the sky is blue, the Canadian flag is red, the Flyers are orange, your house is white and black and that my sister's favourite colour is purple," Claude said softly.

"And the trees?"

"The trees are grey," Claude admitted slowly, raising his eyes to stare at Phil who looked stricken. "I thought my shirt was grey too."

"Your colours are fading," Phil whispered in shock, his gaze filled with the sight of the other man's pain.

"No. My bond is fading," Claude responded after a moment. "And the sky is getting duller with every passing minute."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1) If you made it this far, again I am sorry and know that I love you and I hope that you can eventually come to forgive me.
> 
> 2) This chapter was a lot darker than I had planned for it to be, but I thought it was necessary in giving readers some context into the universe and the weight of what has happened to Sid and Claude. I also wanted to give some backstory into Sid and Claude's relationship as a friend was asking me questions which I realized I hadn't properly answered.
> 
> 3) This chapter was really weird for me to write because it didn't have any Sid in it?? When I originally thought of this fic I had planned on writing it first person from Sid's POV, but then Claude has such an integral role in this story and I wanted the story to be told in tandem so I switched to third person and have been writing different people ever since? I'm not totally sure how I feel about that, so please let me know if it's working with the story or working for you and if not I may need to make some adjustments moving forward.
> 
> 4) I added some more tags to this work so people weren't shocked by the death that was described here. I am also incredibly sorry about what I did to Phil, but it worked out well and though I hated making him the scapegoat, someone needed to be. If you love Phil, be angry at me now, but know that I am inherently a good person in theory, so remember their support for each other in this chapter as we move forward.
> 
> 5) Let me know what you think of this overall and I hope you are still enjoying it even though it's sad. You can message me anytime with theories or comments or complaints at hobrerek.tumblr.com so I'd love to hear from you. Much love! xo


	4. Into the Light

i.

Sid had been in the hospital for eleven days when he got the news that he was medically cleared to be released. Though he was no closer to discovering who his soulmate was or to being able to see colour, the medical staff felt his concussion had improved to a point where they felt comfortable letting him go home.

Or in other words, after dozens upon dozens of tests, no one at the hospital in Pittsburgh had any idea what had happened to Sid's ability to see colour and were giving up on fixing him.

Sid watched as several of his friends flitted around his room now that he was no longer being alienated from them due to medical concerns. Toews had been to visit at one point and so had Stamkos who was still out with a bummed knee, though Sid found it difficult to see his friend who was still wincing in pain so long after the initial injury.

Sid had received hundreds of messages from friends and family over the eleven days he was in the hospital, though he could never look at his phone for long before the light from the screen started to bother his eyes and he was forced to turn it off. Sid was only somewhat surprised to see texts from rival players across the league wishing him well, but he was incredibly disappointed that not one of the messages so much as hinted as to who his soulmate could be, as if there had been some sort of universal agreement to keep him in the dark as long as humanly possible. 

"Why is everyone pacing?" Sid asked, not for the first time, as Kris and Duper made laps around his hospital room, Geno and Flower tapping their legs anxiously on the couch across from the bed.

"You get released today, Sid. Is big deal," Geno replied with what Sid imagined was supposed to be an encouraging smile, but was really anything but.

"Then why do you look constipated?" Sid questioned, quirking his mouth at the affronted noise that escaped Geno's lips at the comment.

"Not having trouble pooping, Sid. Worried about best friend who go home for first time in eleven days. Lots happen in world in eleven days."

"Or in other words you are waiting for me to leave the hospital to see if I suddenly remember anything?" Sid pushed with a raised brow.

"Is not nice to say, Sid," Geno responded meekly. "Is never know."

"Pretty sure if I don't remember who my soulmate is after eleven days, I'm probably not going to figure it out magically afterwards."

"You won't be in a bubble afterwards," Duper noted from where he had stopped in his tracks. "In here we can protect you from getting hurt, from hearing what people are saying about the incident, about you, about your soulmate. Out there we can't protect you from the noise."

"I've been under the microscope my entire life, you think this is any different?" Sid asked honestly, offended at the lack of belief from his friends.

"Being under a microscope for being the best player in the world is different than being under the microscope for getting hurt and losing your soul bond," Flower pointed out astutely. "There are a lot of people who want to see you fail."

"You’re saying there are people championing my injury?" Sid asked in only mild surprise.

"Not exactly."

"Then what?"

"Not everyone is overly supportive of the idea of two captains of rival teams being married. It might be 2017, but same sex soul bonds are still just as rejected as they were a hundred years ago. A lot of people are happy to see the relationship fail," Pascal said consideringly, though it pained him to have to say it as he shared a knowing expression with Kris on the other side of the bed.

"Captain?" Sid whispered in shock, his jaw dropping open and his body tensing as he considered the implications, missing the look of shock that crossed everyone's faces as they unanimously realized the slip up. "M-m-married? I'm...married?"

"Yes mom amie," Tanger said softly after a long period of silence had passed, the men watching in unease as Sid tried to work through what he had just learned. "You have been for many years."

"So you're telling me that on top of not being able to see colours, not only do I have a soul bond that I don't remember having, I'm fucking married and not one of you thought to mention it?" Sid shouted suddenly, his breath coming in heavy gasps as the room around him started to spin, his chest constricting with some unknown emotion that clawed at his heart and pressed on his lungs.

"Sid, Sid, take a deep breath, I need you to calm down," Sid heard someone say through the haze, feeling hands touching at his back and shrugging them off with force as nausea rolled through him.

"How could you keep that from me?" Sid shouted once more, his heart still beating at an unnaturally fast pace. "How the fuck do you keep that from me?"

"You didn't remember..." Tanger said helplessly, his arms still outstretched from where he had tried to put his arms around his friend.

"I've been in here for eleven fucking days, under the impression that I didn't have a bond, and then that we had a platonic bond and finally that I had simply lost my bond and it didn't matter because we clearly hadn't been in a relationship that long and your fucking telling me that I built a life with this person and you decided not to tell me?"

"We didn't want to dis-"

"I don't fucking care whether you didn't want to distort the truth!" Sid shouted, his face purpling with the force of his anger. "What I care about is the fact that I'm apparently fucking married to a captain of another team who I don't fucking remember and you decided to keep it from me!"

"You never even asked before..." Flower whispered his face downcast and his eyes clouded with emotion at the outburst. "He's been here the entire time."

"I'm married, Flower! M-a-r-r-I-e-d. If he's here he could have fucking been in here with me helping me remember who he is and who we are together. Wouldn't you want to know who Vero was if you forgot?"

"Not if I had lost what I had with her," Flower responded so sadly that Tanger and Duper both stepped towards him instinctively to reach out with gentle touches of support. "How do we tell you that you've lost the best thing that's ever happened to you? How do we say those words knowing how much it's going to hurt you?"

"You don't act like fucking cowards and you just say it," Sid heaved, his breath still coming in heavy gasps. "I trusted you to say it."

"You never even cared before," Tanger bit, his eyes switching from sorrow to anger in the span of a few seconds. "Don't pretend like you've been all that invested in finding out who your soulmate is, Sidney. All you had to do was ask."

"I didn't even fucking know!" Sid responded with as much mirth as he could manage. "It's pretty fucking obvious I wasn't going to remember on my own, you should have just told me."

"Don't act so high and mighty, captain," Tanger spat, his blood boiling at the pointed words from the other man. "Don't be so fucking selfish. Your pissed off we didn't tell you, but you haven't even asked since you found out if your husband is okay, or if he's here right now, or how he's handling his partner fucking forgetting about him. We didn't fucking tell you because he didn't want you to know because for the last eleven days he's woken up every morning knowing that you didn't know who he was."

"Bu-"

"Don't," Tanger interrupted viciously, ignoring the looks of surprise from their friends who had gone eerily silent. "You want to yell then fine princess. Yell. Scream as loud as you want. We did what we thought we had to do to protect you and him."

"And what good does that do me now?" Sid yelled defiantly in response, voice cracking as he did so. "That doesn't give me my husband back."

"What good would it have done to tell you though, Sid?" Duper asked calmly and quietly, though there was a roughness around the edges of his words. "You were already recovering from an injury. How does pushing you into depression make this better?"

"For eleven days," Sid started with clenched teeth, stopping to take a gasping breath of air, trying to steel himself to handle the pain that was washing over him in waves. "For eleven days there's been a hole in my life that I couldn't explain because there's a cloud wrapped around my brain that apparently is where the ability to see colour is. And now I find out that hole is actually my husband?"

"Who you really mad at Sid?" Geno asked after a moment, his voice completely void of emotion. "Us or you?"

"I'm married you guys," Sid whispered, emphasis placed on his first words as his voice dropped. "Me. The weird kid who was good at hockey and nothing else. Who's awkward and not good with people and too intense to handle."

"When I woke up," Sid continued when he realized no one was going to add anything in, "I figured I couldn't see colours because I was still alone. That no one had figured out how to love me. Then I find out I have a soul mate but I don't remember who they are and you know what, I can actually handle that. I can handle not having someone love me and forgetting about it because I figure that's the world's way of telling me I don't deserve to be loved."

"But now? Now you're telling me that I found someone who loved me enough to spend the rest of his life with me willingly and I don't even remember losing my virginity? That I don't remember coming out? How many years have I lost? How many firsts with this person have I lost?"

"The doctors already said I'm not going to get it back. I'm never going to remember him on my own or how we met or how we fell in love. What did I do to deserve that?" Sid asked, his voice so full of emotion that the sounds of his ensuing whimper could be felt from miles away. "I needed you to tell me because I don't have anything else to hold on to but that and he could have been here for me to hold on to."

"We couldn't do that to him," Pascal said softly, unashamedly wiping at the tears tracking down his cheeks. "Losing your soul bond is killing him, Sid. He's been a wreck, threatening to quit hockey and move back home to Hearst. He's been here every day and every day he's been told you don't remember him still. Imagine what he's going through right now?"

"I could be making it better," Sid whimpered, tears pouring over.

"Nothing is going to make it better for him, Sid," Pascal replied honestly, his voice gentle and paternal as he continued. "You already said it; the doctors don't think you are ever going to remember that part of your life. We couldn't tell you because we wouldn't be able to put him through coming in here and you not knowing who he was."

"I'm so sorry," Sid cried out as his friend finished speaking, his gasping breath turning to racking sobs as the weight of their conversation settled down on him. "Oh god, please tell him I'm sorry. I'm so fucking sorry."

"It doesn't matter anymore," Pascal murmured softly. "Your parents took him home two days ago. It was hurting him too much to be here."

"He's not even here?" Sid asked between cries, looking up with a devastated expression just as the TV across the bed flickered on, everyone in the room jumping in surprise as the sounds from the broadcast washed over them.

"Sorry," Geno muttered, lifting his leg up and pulling the remote out from where he had sat down on the bed only moments ago to wrap his arms around his best friend and had accidentally pushed the button.

"Wait," Sid responded wetly, sniffling loudly as he stared at the grainy black and white photo of a man surrounded by cameras and microphones on the screen, the man's expression desolate and hollow as tears continued to track down Sid's face. 

"Sid..."

"That's him," Sid said in awe, eyes locked on the words on the screen.

"Do you recognize him?" Pascal asked, though he knew by the tears that had started sliding down the younger man's face at an increasing speed that he knew the answer as the broadcast started, the words "Claude Giroux Speaks About Husband Crosby's Accident for First Time" repeating endlessly on the screen as the five men lapsed into stilted silence, the only noise the soft murmur of Claude's voice and the racking sobs from the man in the hospital bed before Sid finally spoke.

"No. No I don't."

 

ii.

Claude woke up for the second day in a row in his guest bedroom, unable to bring himself to enter his master bedroom for longer than a few minutes due to the overwhelming feeling of "Sid" that it left him with.

Making his way downstairs, Claude entered the kitchen and groggily made himself a cup of coffee, several sips in before he realized he had unconsciously grabbed his husband's favourite mug and hesitating for a few long moments as he debated between taking another sip and launching the mug at the adjacent wall.

Raising his arm, Claude breathed in the earthy aroma of the drink before taking a long sip of the warm liquid, swirling the taste of the coffee around the inside of his mouth before swallowing, placing the drink down on the counter and slowly pushing the mug away until he could no longer reach it, refusing to read too much into the motion. 

Claude surveyed the room when he was done, eyes catching on the TV, the book he had been reading before the Stadium Series game and finally his phone which was resting haphazardly on the edge of the table by the front door, only barely visible around the living room wall.

It wasn't that Claude had been avoiding his phone exactly, it was more he didn't know what to say to his friends or family that would make him or them feel better about what had happened. The reality was nothing was ever going to make it better, make the fact he had lost his soul bond and was slowly losing his colours any better. The fact he had lost one of his best friends, his career and his husband in the span of a few seconds wasn't something he could foresee he or anyone else truly recovering from, even if life did go on as Phil had demonstrated.

While it had only been two days since Claude had gone to visit Phil, already blues and purples had faded from his repository of colours, the world growing both brighter and more muted simultaneously in a weird dichotomy that left Claude increasingly unsettled.

In the end, the mental reminder of Phil was enough to send Claude striding across the room determinedly, his socked feet sliding on the hardwood floor for the briefest of moments as he slowed to a halt, taking in a deep breath of air before unplugging his phone from the cord under the entrance table and flipping the screen towards himself, pressing on the home button and gulping with the sheer enormity of what awaited him.

The news of Claude's return to Philadelphia had been widely reported on mainstream media; on sports sites and other sites alike as the story of a broken soul bond without one or both parties becoming neutrals was practically unheard of and therefore prone to wild discussion.

To make matters worse, a nosy reporter had followed Claude on his way to Phil's house and had snapped a quick photo of Phil answering the door, prompting speculation that Claude too had become a neutral, though neither he, the Penguins organization or the Flyers organization had come out with an official statement outlining the truth behind the whispers.

Claude slowly made his way back to the couch with his phone in hand, plopping down and pulling the red fluffy blanket from the back over his legs and tucking his feet under as he arranged a pillow behind his neck, never taking his eyes off the screen all the while.

He started with his snapchats of all places, watching the hundred or so snaps he had gotten and skimming over the written messages as he slowly whittled down the notification icon, switching over to Instagram and simply clicking the heart icon to do the same. Going into his Instagram mailbox, Claude deleted all the messages in there without reading them, the previews of the first few enough to make him feel as if he wasn't missing much. Once that was complete, Claude wavered for several long seconds before flipping to his profile, knowing very well that his picture was that of he and Sid and that the last photo he had posted had been the morning of the accident and was a dopey picture of Sid making breakfast in his boxer briefs and a shirt of Claude's.

Tears pricked at the back of Claude's eyes as his gaze hovered on the photo, thumb posed above the preview before finally he clicked on it and brought the image to its full size, running his finger along the expanse of his husband's back and choking down a sob as he considered the fact that he would never have moments like that again to share.

After another few moments of Claude staring resolutely at the photo, he finally backed out of the image and moved to the red notifications indicating people had tagged him in photos, clicking on the icon and becoming instantly overwhelmed at the series of pictures awaiting him, dozens upon dozens of photos of people sending their love and support through text images, selfies, memes or videos. By the time Claude surfaced from scrolling through the photos, his own photos included, his cheeks were tearstained as he considered how grateful he was to be in the position he was in. Regardless of his pain being broadcasted to millions of people, there were also millions more to encourage and support him due to his platform as a professional athlete and that meant more to Claude than he could ever possibly begin to explain as he could never imagine going through this situation alone.

Over the ensuing hours, Claude worked through his Facebook, Kik, text message, voicemail, email and game center notifications, reading every kind comment from friends, family and acquaintances, not calling anyone back, but thanking all those who had texted, responding in longer form to those he was close with and finally, sending a long carefully thought out email to the Flyers organization, outlining his decision to take a step back from the team for the remainder of the season, the Flyers already mathematically out of a playoff position, regardless of their effort throughout the year.

Once this was complete, Claude put his phone on the coffee table screen down and burrowed under the blanket, glancing at the clock on the wall and smiling sadly, realizing that Sid's favourite show was just about to start. 

Grabbing the remote from where it lay beside his phone, Claude switched the TV on, instantly turning the speakers to mute until he could type the number of the channel he knew off by heart, not switching the sound back on until the opening credits of River Monsters came on, unmuting the television and settling in as he prepared to watch three hours of terrifying river creatures playing across his screen. 

When he awoke in the morning, it was to a pain in his neck from the awkward position and a rested mind from the satisfaction of working through his demons, leaning forward once he was fully awake a few minutes later and grabbing his phone, noting the absurd volume of messages yet again waiting for him from friends and family.

This time, Claude was able to work through everything in the course of an hour, leaving the email chain from the Flyers organization to last, taking a deep breath before opening the messages, unconsciously holding his breath until he read the message from Ron Hextall himself thanking Claude for his honesty and for understanding the need to take care of himself, informing Claude that the Flyers organization was behind his decision and were ready to support him in any means necessary.

A few phone calls later, Claude and the Flyers had decided to organize a press conference for the following day, Claude preferring to just get it over with though management had offered to give him more time. The Flyers PR staff had also called at one point to go over the game plan, but Claude had rebuffed their polite suggestions, preferring to go with raw honesty instead of fielding questions in order to avoid the truth that everyone already knew - his soul bond was gone and Claude was taking a step back from the hockey world to deal with the repercussions.

"Claude, you've been on your own out of the spotlight for the last thirteen days, what made you decide to give this interview now?" a reporter off to Claude's left asked the following morning, Claude gulping loudly at the pointed words.

"I haven't been on my own," he started after a moment, feeling a crushing pressure weighing down on his chest which he couldn't catch his breath around, already having sat through twenty minutes of both the Flyers and Pens organizations having stood up to speak and give updates about their respective teams. "I've had the support of my friends and family and spent most of the last two weeks in Pittsburgh at the hospital with Sid's closest friends and family. I also haven't really been out of the spotlight."

"Was it difficult spending so much time around rival players?" another reporter asked, Claude physically restraining himself from rolling his eyes at the absurdity of the question considering the reason they were here.

"Those guys are like family. When you've been m..."

Claude trailed off as a sudden overwhelming urge to cry washed over him, visibly choking up for a few long moments before he was able to compose himself, staring resolutely at the floor as he tried to wet his lips and force himself to finish the rest of his words.

"When you've been married to an "enemy" player as long as I have, rivalries don't end up meaning all that much," Claude said quietly, uncaring about the cameras in the back that would be unable to pick up on his words.

"Claude, is it true that Sid's half of the soul bond is gone?" Claude heard someone ask, having chosen to stare at the shoelaces of one of the reporters at the front instead of looking into the cameras like he knew he was supposed to do and missing the pitying look he got from the people in the room at his reaction to the question.

"Yes," he replied shortly, sniffling loudly in the enclosed space beyond the mass of bodies.

"How do you deal with the fact that your husband has lost his soul bond?" someone asked, Claude feeling himself slowly losing control every time he heard someone say the word husband.

"I don't think you do."

"But you are here, giving an interview?" another pushed.

"I'm here today because my life is falling apart and I'm taking a step back," Claude said honestly, looking up to make contact with the man who had spoken, a spindly man from the local paper with eyes like sunken holes and the personality of an unwatered cactus. "This has nothing to do with being in the fucking spotlight or being ready. I'm never going to be ready to have this conversation. I'm here because I need to not be in the spotlight for the next little while and I know I can't do that without standing here and explaining myself and apologizing to the fans."

"What are you saying?" a young woman to the right asked, her face showing an open form of empathy that Claude despised. 

"I'm saying that with the permission of the Flyers organization, I have decided to take a leave of absence from the team for the remainder of the season."

A loud gasp worked itself through the room at Claude's words, reporters whispering between themselves as the noise of dozens of people frantically scribbling notes could be heard over the din of the Flyers PR staff trying to get everyone to focus.

"Claude, what does Sidney have to say about this decision?" a man from the local radio station asked and Claude felt a strong desire to both punch and/or hug him at that exact moment for turning the conversation in the direction he had originally intended.

"Sid doesn't know about my decision to step back from hockey," Claude answered honestly, looking around the room once more. "I haven't spoken to Sid since we faced each at center ice the day of the accident."

"You haven't spoken to your husband in thirteen days?" someone asked with surprise, the question an unwanted punch to the gut which threatened to push the rising bile up and out of Claude's throat.

"I was informed that he was referring to himself as a shade when I came back from the cafeteria after having gone to get a coffee the day he awoke. It was decided that while the doctors ran some tests that it would be better if we stayed separated so we didn't confuse him, but his tests came back inconclusive and after that day it became clear that something was seriously wrong. I haven't talked to him in thirteen days because Sid has informed the medical staff that he had no idea I exist," Claude finished, his voice eerily calm considering the range of emotions coursing through his veins.

"Is that even possible?"

"Apparently," Claude said dangerously, shooting a look at the reporter.

"Do the doctors have any idea why Sid has lost his ability to see colours and you haven't?" a lady asked and Claude took a gulp as he prepared himself to answer the question he had been waiting for this entire time.

"What colour is your shirt, Cindy?" Claude asked, catching the female reporter off guard.

"Red?" She responded, clearly as confused as everyone around her.

"Your shirt looks dark grey to me," Claude answered honestly, dropping his gaze back to the reporter’s shoelaces which were a putrid yellow colour and one of the only colours that Claude could still see, red having been one of the colours that had somehow disappeared between this morning and the day previous.

"You've lost your ability to see colour?" someone asked.

"Most of them. They've been disappearing over the last few days."

"You're a neutral then?"

"No," Claude said with finality. "Neutrals are people who have lost their partner, always involving death. Sid's still alive, he just doesn't know who I am."

"What does that make you?"

"Faded? Shaded? Fucking unlucky, I don't know," Claude said in exasperation, running his hands through his unruly hair and doing his best to tamp down the anger that was rushing through his veins, having switched from sorrow to annoyance early on in the afternoon's proceedings. "All I know is I've lost my soul bond and the world is going back to black and white and there's nothing I can do about it."

"Is that why you are stepping back from hockey?"

"I'm stepping back from hockey because hockey has given me everything. It gave me a dream as a kid of something to work up to and then it gave me a career. It gave me money so I could have food in my belly and a roof over my head. It gave me my best friends, it gave me my second family and it gave me my husband who I love with all my fucking heart," Claude responded, his anger switching abruptly to agony as tears welled up in his eyes and he struggled to continue.

"But hockey also took the best thing that has ever happened to me away and I don't know if I can forgive it yet. Every time I think about the game or the ice or my skates or my stick I think of Sid and what he's doing or how he would do it or how he'd see the game and I'd send him a text and we'd talk about it. Sid and hockey have become so wrapped up in each other that I don't know how I can handle them not being the same thing for me anymore."

"Sid's going to play hockey again," Claude said between choked sobs, surprised that he had yet to break down completely though he knew he was getting close. "He'll recover fully from his injury and he'll get back on skates and he'll win more awards and get more cups and continue being the best player in the world."

"But I don't know how anyone asks me to continue playing when I remember everything, all the pain, all the tears, all the smiles, all the firsts, all the good times and the bad times and his body crumpled on the ice when he remembers nothing and can just go out and play. I don't think I can do that yet. Not now, maybe not ever."

"You're thinking of retiring?" a member of Sportsnet asked, watching Claude with thoughtful eyes.

"I don't know if I can come back from this," Claude replied honestly, staring at him straight on.

"What did your team say when you told them?"

A shot of embarrassment washed over Claude and he felt as his cheeks tinged as he thought back to the call the previous day when he had asked Ron to thank his team for their support and explain to them that he was stepping down as captain for the rest of the season.

"I couldn't bring myself to tell them. Ron Hextall passed along my remarks," Claude answered with shame after a long moment had passed, his head once again dropping down as he tried to maintain control of his emotions.

"Has anyone reached out to you since that announcement?"

"No and I honestly don't expect them to. I know I'm letting my team down and the fans down and I'm so fucking sorry," Claude said, just as the emotional dam he had built up crashed down on him, his choked off sob the only thing that could be heard in the room as he started to cry, unabashedly aware of the cameras catching his every tear. "I'm so sorry, I'm so, so sorry, I just can't."

"I think that's enough," Claude heard someone say off to the side, having covered his face with his hands as he cried, feeling gentle arms guiding him away from the crowd and into a back room of the facility where the lights were dimmed and Claude was left alone to handle his emotions, letting himself break for several long minutes as he rocked back and forth, finally opening up his eyes and staring at the man who's arms were currently wrapped around him.

"What are you doing here?" Claude asked in surprise when he took in the face of the other man, not realizing who it had been at first between his clouded vision and loud cries.

"Us black and whites need to stick together," the other man said cryptically and Claude found himself letting out a wet chuckle despite his best attempts.

"You're making us sound like a gang, Phil. Not a bunch of depressed losers."

"We can be a gang of two can't we? Claude and Phil, taking on the world!"

"Why am I friends with you?" Claude asked with another sniffle, sitting up and bumping his shoulder against the other man's. 

"Something about not getting pity from me and me being delightful," Phil supplied, looking straight ahead stonily while Claude cleaned his face on the inside of his shirt.

"I knew there was a reason."

 

iii.

**CLAUDE GIROUX, STEPS DOWN AS CAPTAIN OF PHILADELPHIA FLYERS**  
_Effective immediately, Wayne Simmonds named acting captain for remainder of season_

_By Mark Bull - March 4, 2017_

Claude Giroux rocked the hockey world yesterday when he announced that he was taking a leave of absence from the Philadelphia Flyers for the remainder of the season.

Already mathematically eliminated from a playoff position, this move was unsurprising to many as Giroux continues to deal with the after effects of husband Sidney Crosby's tragic accident two weeks ago which saw Giroux's own teammate knock him into the ice, causing the rival captain to lose consciousness.

As has been widely reported, Sidney Crosby lost his soul bond in light of the accident and as was announced yesterday, has zero recollection of his soul bond or of his husband.

While the details are still scarce, Giroux reported yesterday during a scheduled press conference that his own ability to see colours was fading, which was a large reason he was stepping down in order to focus on himself and starting the recovery process.

"We one hundred per cent, whole heartedly support Claude's decision," Flyers General Manager Ron Hextall had to say at the close of Giroux's surprise conference. "We can't even begin to imagine what he must be going through right now and are supportive of his decision to take some time to heal."

"We will continue to pay Claude's salary for the remainder of the season and will discuss other options moving forward in the summer months if he decides to take a step back from hockey."

"While we certainly would prefer to have Claude on our team as he is one of our best players and our undisputed captain, you can't predict things like this and we truly hope that regardless of what he chooses that he can find happiness in his new life."

The Flyers GM went on to outline a few changes in the Flyers lineup as Wayne Simmonds was named acting captain for the remainder of the season, while Jacub Voracek was named alternate captain. 

*In light of the injury to goalie Steve Mason during the play that injured Crosby, Hextall informed members of the press that Mason would likely be out for the remainder of the season and that Neuvirth will likely start the majority of games for the rest of the year.

_@Associated Press._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1) Hello again friends, so sorry for the delay in getting this chapter posted. No matter what I tried to do, this chapter just did not want to write itself, no matter how many times I tried. Not sure if I will post this coming Monday or wait until the Monday after, but sorry for the weird update days.
> 
> 2) I'm usually pretty excited when I post a chapter but I'm really not sure how I feel about this one?? Maybe it's because I was struggling so much to write it, but I'd really love your guys' opinions on where the story is at so far and where you'd like to see it go/think that it might go.
> 
> 3) Hopefully you are still able to enjoy this chapter, even if it is a little bit different. As always, come hang out at hobrerek.tumblr.com and thanks for the love guys. Much love xo


	5. Realizations

i.

The sky was a muted grey several hours later as Sid let himself be guided into the back of Pascal's car, sunglasses shielding his eyes and a ball cap pulled low over his face as the group exited the hospital out the back, avoiding the mass of reporters at the front doors who had somehow been tipped to Sidney's release.

The car was quiet as Kris and Pascal spoke in hushed tones in the front, Geno and Flower following behind in a second vehicle which did absolutely nothing to make either range rover look less inconspicuous as they drove in tight formation out of the hospital parking lot and back out to the suburbs where they apparently all lived in close proximity.

Sid leaned back in the seat as he considered everything he had learned over the last few hours, lamenting on the conversation he had, had with his "friends" as they told him some more information about his husband, who he still had no recollection of, nor the life they apparently shared together for close to eight years.

The worst part for Sid was that he remembered most other things about his life. He remembered the day his parents brought his sister home from the hospital, her face all wrinkled and her body looking like a slightly underdone potato. He remembered the feeling of lifting the cup in the air for the first time and the feeling of winning gold at the Vancouver and Sochi Olympics, the feeling of scoring the game winning golden goal and the relief at not letting his country down.

At the same time, however, there were also big gaps in Sid's memory that Sid now knew to be his apparent husband. He knew that he had gone to the World Cup of Hockey last year because he remembered being invited, but he didn't remember actually playing or winning the award. He knew that he won the cup for the second time, remembered setting up Tanger for the game winning goal, but he didn't remember the on-ice celebration or the festivities afterwards. He knew that playing the Flyers was a big deal when ever it happened, but he didn't remember ever having played the Flyers before or the ensuing chaos that resulted from it.

As the world passed by around them and Sid considered all that he remembered he felt a pounding began to build at the front of his skull, closing his eyes and dropping his head against the cool glass as a light snow began to cover the city, the world going hazy to match the inside of Sid's brain. Sometime later, which might have been an hour or ten minutes, Sid opened his eyes just in time to see a sign that felt like it might lead him to some answers.

"Turn right up ahead!" Sid said earnestly, sitting upright in his seat and barely noticing as both Kris and Pascal jumped in surprise, sharing a look with each other though Pascal obliged, signalling to exit the highway and quickly crossing two lanes to go up the offramp, knowing where they were going without Sid needing to explain as there was only one person Sid knew who lived out here and he was the only other person they knew who had found himself in a similar situation as Sid.

It was a testament to how clouded his brain really was that Sid didn't question the fact that Pascal knew where he was going without asking. Even though Sid's concussion was all but gone somehow, only slight headaches here and there remaining, the amnesia itself was enough to block everything else out and make it difficult to be coherent with large patches of Sid's life missing.

Distantly Sid could hear Kris talking to someone in the front seat, though he knew it wasn't Pascal who was too focused on reading the road signs, signalling to turn left down a long winding road once he was content he knew where he was going. Some time later as they passed through a thick tree line the land opened up to reveal a large black and white mansion nestled in a larger grove, snow still nestled on the pine needles from the last storm, though the driveway was clear.

Sid glanced behind them as the car pulled into the driveway and parked, noting that the other range rover was nowhere to be found. Turning forward to ask where they had gone, he found Kris and Pascal watching him with thoughtful expressions.

"They carried on to your house to get the heat running and cycle out the stale air," Pascal said in answer to Sid's unasked question, looking at Kris whose face was still closed off from the fight earlier, raising his eyebrows at his friend who sighed and turned to make eye contact with Sid. 

"Do you know whose house this is?" Kris asked, just barely restraining a long-suffering sigh.

"No," Sid answered honestly, looking back at the house and feeling like he should know who lived there, but coming up blank. "But it feels like I needed to come here for some reason."

"You're probably going to be awhile," Kris responded, looking at the clock on the dash to note the time before turning back to Sid. "We called ahead to let him know you were coming so you can head inside anytime. Just call us and we'll come get you. We have some errands to run anyways."

"Wait, you're just going to leave me with someone I don't know?" Sid asked in a panic, his voice coming out squeakier than he had intended.

"You're safe here, Sid. And even if you don't remember him once you get inside, just talk to him, he knows more about what you are going through than anyone else in your life would," said Pascal.

"He lost his soul bond too?" Sid asked curiously, distinctly remembering the doctors saying that this was the first case in over 20 years.

"He lost his partner," Kris said resolutely, staring at Sid with emotionless eyes as he did so. "So close enough."

"So you are leaving me with a neutral I don't remember then? Joy," Sid said sarcastically, looking up at the house and swallowing loudly as he made to exit the car. "Erm, thanks I think?"

"You'll be fine, Sid," Pascal said encouragingly, smiling softly at the other man. "Your heart told you to come here for a reason. Go with your gut."

"And I can just call you when I want to leave?" Sid asked nervously, his amnesia confusing his natural instincts on such a matter.

"We'll only be fifteen minutes away at all times, we promise, right Kris?" Pascal said with a sharp elbow to the other man's gut as Kris grunted out an agreement, turning to shoot daggers at his friend before giving a curt nod to Sid and abruptly facing forward again.

"Thanks I guess," Sid said with a sigh, closing the door behind himself and shoving his hands into his pockets as he looked at the house once more before finally working up the courage to walk to the door and rap tentatively on the frame three times in quick succession.

Sid could feel his friends looking at him from the car which was still sitting in the driveway waiting for someone to answer the door and Sid wasn't sure if that was making him feel better or worse in all honesty.

A moment later Sid saw someone peek out the window to his right and he gulped loudly as he heard a loud noise inside the house as the door was unlocked and swung open to reveal a face Sid surprisingly actually recognized.

"Phil!" Sid shouted in surprise, stepping back to look at Phil better and then chancing a look at Pascal and Kris who were both shaking their heads at him with small smiles on their faces (Kris albeit grudgingly) and motioning with their hands for Sid to turn back and go inside.

"Hello Sid," Phil said with a sigh, inviting him into his house and shooting a look at the occupants of the car once Sid passed them, his glare evident of how he felt about a second intruder in his home in the course of a few days as he closed the door behind his captain and motioned for Sid to follow him into the house.

"Can I ask you a weird question?" Sid asked once they were sitting on the couch a minute later, his eyes roaming around the house, noting how the walls were barren of any photos or personal items, the mantelpiece above the fireplace void of any trinkets or mementos and instead carrying a few books that were precariously stacked and a vase that looked like it hadn't been moved in years which Phil noted in mild amusement since his other visitor had done the exact same thing a few days previous.

"All your questions are weird, Sid," Phil said honestly, though he didn't say it maliciously.

"Everything in your house in black and white right? It's not just because I can't see colours anymore?" Sid asked nervously, looking up at the second floor and feeling a sense of deja vu.

"Yes. You don't remember?"

"Not really," Sid said in a small voice. "Should I?"

"You've been here before. Though I can't say you've ever commented on the lack of colours before."

"Oh. Am I being rude?" Sid said with a grimace, chiding himself for being so inconsiderate since his friends had informed him that Phil was a neutral, which in hindsight he did actually know.

"It's fine."

"Okay," Sid responded, looking around awkwardly again and noticing an opened door at the top of the stairs. "Does someone else live here?"

"I'm sorry?" Phil asked in confusion, looking behind him and then back at Sidney.

"I just thought your bedroom was on the main floor," Sid said as he scrubbed at his face, leaning forward and placing his head in his hands.

"Why are you here, Sid?" Phil asked a few minutes later, his voice void of emotion as it so usually was, conveniently ignoring the earlier question to avoid creating an uncomfortable situation.

"I don't know," Sid said quietly, scrubbing at his face again and pinching his fingers between his eyes where the pain had all but disappeared in the few minutes he had been in Phil's house, as if some magical force was keeping his pain at bay. "We were driving home and I saw this sign and I had this overwhelming urge to come here. But I didn't even know who you were until you answered the door and..."

"And?"

"And I didn't remember you were a neutral. If it wasn't for the fact that they told me I wouldn't have any idea," Sid said quietly, staring at the book on the table instead of at Phil, reading the title and feeling like he recognized it somehow, though he wasn't sure from where.

"What do you remember?" Phil asked cautiously, his anger barely contained under the service as he considered the other man.

"Not much," Sid replied honestly. "I remember some things and not others. I remember meeting my friends, I remember winning gold, winning the Stanley Cups, I remember you, but I don't remember how I met you or celebrating the wins or where I live or having a husband or you know, all the actual fucking important things in my life."

"Hm," Phil said astutely, thinking back on something Claude had said the other day and wondering if it wasn't as obvious as he thought it might be.

"Really? That's all you have to say?" Sid asked with a hint of annoyance, looking at Phil appraisingly and sensing some hostility though he wasn't sure what he had done and wasn't sure he wanted to ask to find out.

"I'm just noticing a theme," Phil noted casually, though the more he thought about it the more he was convinced he was right.

"Which is?" Sid pushed.

"You remember winning the first cup right?"

"Yes?" Sid asked in confusion since he had literally just said that.

"But not the celebration right?"

"Yes?"

"You remember winning gold at Vancouver I take it?"

"Yeah, I scored the game winning goal, I remember how relieved I felt afterwards."

"Do you remember celebrating afterwards?" Phil asked, dropping his hostile tone for a moment once he saw Sid retreating into himself and needing him to do the opposite.

"Yes? We all got ridiculously drunk and then had to find our way back to the Olympic village because we had somehow managed to steal a Ferry in the night."

"But you don't remember celebrating the Cup wins?"

"How many times do I have to say no?" Sid asked angrily, surprising himself. "What does that have to do with anything?"

"It has to do with everything."

"What does that even fucking mean?" Sid said with more anger, though Phil was completely unfazed by the outburst.

"Claude didn't go to the Olympics with you either time," Phil said once Sid's breathing had evened out a few moments later. "The first time because he was injured and the second time because he was upset he hadn't gotten chosen and made an excuse to stay home and see his family since you usually spend your summers in Nova Scotia."

"Okay?" said Sid, who still didn't understand where Phil was going with this.

"But he was there for both Cup wins and on the ice for the second one since you were married by that point and out to the public."

"Wait, he was on the ice?" Sid asked in surprise, racking his brain but coming up empty as he ran into the barrier that was his amnesia.

"Yes and you don't remember it."

"But I remember the Olympic wins because he wasn't there..." Sid said in shock as realization dawned on him. "The first time I came here, was it with Claude?"

"Yes," Phil replied succinctly.

"And the World Cup, he was there?"

"Yes."

"I can't remember anything where he is there," Sid said in shock, his jaw dropping open as he considered the information. "Which is why I don't remember where I live because it's our house, not my house?"

"It's just a theory," Phil said, watching Sid carefully who was still staring at the book on the table and chancing a look over his shoulder at the second floor quickly, glancing back after a moment and preparing himself to wait Sid out as the other man processed everything.

"What does that mean?" Sid asked quietly after a moment, his voice full of fear as he considered that every black hole in his mind was his husband and hating himself for not knowing what that even truly meant.

"Have you ever heard of dissociative amnesia?" Phil asked.

"No? What's that?"

"It's a condition where you block out a traumatic incident. You can forget just the incident or long periods of time. Your brain doesn't want to remember so it doesn't. Sound familiar?"

"But why wouldn't the doctors tell me this? And why would my brain want to forget my husband?"

"Did you talk to the doctors about Claude?"

"No...but I don't even remember him, so how was I supposed to talk about him?"

"And your friends aren't supposed to tell you anything about him so you can remember organically right?" Phil added with notable sarcasm.

"Yeah, how did you know?" Sid asked with a furrow of his brows.

"Because Kris called to tell me they were bringing you over and told me not to tell you anything you didn't already know," Phil said simply.

"But you've already told me things?" Sid questioned, his frown growing larger.

"That's because it's stupid to think that you are going to remember anything on your own or that us telling you about Claude is somehow going to change how you feel about him. I've seen you two, you're gross together."

"So what, you don't care about what happens to me?" Sid asked defensively.

"Not particularly," Phil responded casually, staring at Sid and daring him to start a fight.

"I, uh, what?" Sid asked in shock, shaking his head and seriously questioning why his friends had dropped him off here since Phil clearly didn't like him that much.

"You found out that you were married a few hours ago and your first reaction was anger that your friends didn't tell you."

"Wouldn't you be angry?"

"I am angry, every day, but at least I wasn't a coward and faced my tragedy head on."

"What the fuck does that mean?" Sid said hotly.

"How many times have you talked to Claude since you got hurt?" Phil accused, his eyes shooting daggers at the other man.

"I didn't even know who Claude was for the majority of it!" Sid shouted, throwing his hands up in frustration. "I didn't even know his name until this morning and it's not like he contacted me either!"

"Are you sure about that?" Phil asked, raising one eyebrow and daring Sid to look at his phone for the message he knew was there from this morning since he had been with Claude when he had sent it.

"Yes?" Sid said unsurely, his anger making way for his confusion as he pulled his phone out, looking at all the notifications across his phone in his email, texts, phone calls and the some social media that he had but no one knew about.

"Are you really sure about that?" Phil asked again, watching as Sid looked up at him in confusion and then down at his phone as he pulled open his text messages, scrolling through the message previews until finally realization dawned on his face and his finger hovered over one name eight messages down from the top.

"Why is my husband's name 'the better captain' in my phone?" Sid asked with a frown, feeling a pulling in his chest at the mention of his husband which he had gotten every time he had spoken about him.

"He changed it the day of the Stadium Series, you were bitching about it in the locker room, but told him you weren't going to change it back until you guys won so that he would have to change your name in his phone to be the better captain."

"That sounds like something I would do," Sid admitted grudgingly, finger hovering over the message on his phone before he pulled away and shut down the screen. "Is that why you are mad at me? Because I haven't responded to him?"

"I'm mad at you because the entire time you've been in the hospital he's been breaking down and you haven't once asked if he was okay or reached out to him. Did you know he's lost his colours? Imagine what that's like, losing them day after day because your husband doesn't care about you?"

"I didn't know I cared about him though," Sid whispered, tears pricking at the backs of his eyes.

"Funny that you still haven't asked though," Phil said sarcastically, watching Sid wince.

"What can I say to him that makes this better though?" Sid asked desperately, looking up at Phil and begging him with his eyes to understand. "I can't just call him and be like, 'hey, I don't remember you but apparently we are married so come home.' I don't even like some of my best friends touching me that much and I guarantee I am not good at being comforting. How is me calling him going to make this any better?"

"It won't make it better, but at least it proves that you care and that the last eight years weren't a complete fucking waste."

"You really don't like me do you?" Sid asked with a grimace, catching movement out of the corner of his eye, but not wanting to break eye contact with the other man in case he decided to punch him as he had looked like he had wanted to this entire time.

"Take it as someone who has seen things from the other side. I'm inclined to agree with Claude on this one."

"I think I should probably go then," Sid said uncomfortably, glancing down at his phone just as a message popped up telling him that Pascal and Kris were back outside and ready to go whenever he was.

"Make better life choices!" Phil shouted sarcastically two minutes later as he closed the door behind Sid with a bang, the noise making Sid jump though his headache was somehow completely gone now, despite the yelling and stress of the previous situation.

As he slid into the back seat of the range rover without a word, refusing to make eye contact with either man and instead shrinking down in his seat, he missed the movement from the second floor window as a flash of orange peeked out, nodding at the two men in the front seat who nodded back before backing down the driveway and driving away.

 

ii.

"Do you think it's going to work?" Flower asked conspiratorially, looking at the other men in the room as they shuffled things around.

"He has to figure it out one way or another," Kris said pettily as he shifted a frame over so he could place another picture of Sid and Claude together on the mantle which he had taken off of the wall in the media room so Sid would be confronted with it as soon as he walked in the house.

"He either remember or not remember," Geno added on. "Not hurt if not remember, but maybe help so we try, yes?"

"I'm not sure if I'm more worried that he's going to remember or not remember," Flower supplied, looking around as he placed the book that Sid and Claude had both been reading onto the coffee table, the other copy somewhere with Claude though he wouldn't put it past him to have thrown it out.

"Would it really be so bad if he did remember?" Pascal asked, knowing what Flower was getting at since he had seen their relationship blossom and knew that if Sid did ever remember everything that had happened that he was going to be devastated at the pain he had inadvertently caused.

"Would it really be so bad if he didn't?" Kris retorted, a hushed silence falling over the room as they looked around at the life that Claude and Sid had built together, the mementos of their marriage all over the house in pictures, trinkets, clothing and even the colour of the kitchen which Claude had somehow convinced Sid to paint orange so their kitchen always looked like Halloween.

"Yes," Pascal said after a minute. "Claude is our friend and the fact that he's holing up at Phil's house concerns me. I love Phil, I really do, but is he really the right guy for Claude to be around right now?"

"Phil will be honest with him though, that's why he's there," Kris responded, crossing his arms over his chest. "He's already stepped down from hockey and Simmonds still has the stitches in his face from when Claude beat the shit out of him at the hospital. He needs to be close to Sid, even if he's not directly around him."

"Is not better to not deal with though," Geno pointed out. "Is Claude wanting to let go or make Sid love again? I worry about him, what if he hurt himself?"

"Claude's too proud to hurt himself," Kris noted, thinking back to the orange-haired man he had somehow befriended and everything he knew about him. 

"That doesn't mean spending time with Phil is any healthier though," Flower said after a moment. "Phil didn't handle the death of Stella at all and he pushes everyone in his life away. How is Claude doing the same any better?"

"Claude will make his own decisions," Pascal interrupted just as Kris and Geno started to speak. "I see your point, but Claude's a smart guy and more than that as Kris said, he's a proud guy. He might turn into Phil, you're right, that's definitely a concern. But even considering my earlier comments, what if being around Phil makes him want to never become Phil? Is that really the worst thing either?"

"Two broken birds might make each other fly again," Geno said with a thoughtful expression, though he knew he had gotten the metaphor wrong. "Might help each other get better since each know what other is feeling."

"I really don't know," Pascal said with a sigh, "but for the time being I think we let them be. We know he's there and as much as Phil is resigned to his fate, I know he'll come to us if we really need to know something about Claude's well-being. Now we just need to know if coming home sparks something in Sid's brain or if he's truly lost their soul bond forever."

"I don't think I can be here to watch that," Flower said softly, dropping his gaze to the floor as he flushed with shame.

"I don't think any of us should be here to watch that," Pascal said reassuringly, making sure to catch Flower's gaze as he did so. "One way or the other he's either going to remember his husband or not. When he gets here we'll let him deal with his emotions on his own for a bit and come back in the morning. He's going to need to grieve eventually and now's as good a time as any."

"Who you texting?" Geno asked as Duper finished speaking, having pulled his phone from his pocket and lips pulling down as he read the message, the rest of his friends watching him in concern.

"Claude just texted me," Pascal said in surprise, looking up to see everyone watching him with matching expressions. "He asked me to come back and get him, said he can't deal with Sid being so close. Are you good to go, Kris?"

"Do you want the honest answer?" Kris retorted, flushing himself at the disappointed look Pascal shot his way and instead nodding in agreement, stopping to give Geno and Flower a quick hug before adjusting a picture on the mantle and stepping back to follow Pascal out of the door.

"Better late than never, right?" Flower said as cheerfully as he could manage as they all walked out the door and locked up behind themselves, the two pairs separating and getting into their respective vehicles as they backed down the drive and slowly drove out of the gated community.

"Will they be okay?" Flower asked Geno some minutes later as they watched the other range rover turn left back towards the highway, their range rover carrying on towards Geno's house which was only a few minutes away, Flower not wanting to be alone quite yet and Geno obviously feeling the same since he had never offered to drive him home.

"I not know," Geno replied sadly, looking over at his goalie friend briefly. "For the sake of both guys, I hope so. I not like seeing Sid sad, but I not like seeing ginger husband sad either."

"Yeah," Flower agreed just as sadly. "Me too."

 

iii.

"You didn't have to do that you know?" Phil heard a voice say, turning to watch Claude descend the stairs a solid forty-five minutes after Sid had left.

"Was I wrong?" Phil asked, though he already knew the answer and wasn't going to feel guilty about it even if he had been.

"No," Claude admitted eventually, plopping down on the other couch and pulling his legs up to his chest, his eyes puffy from where he had obviously been crying.

"You're my friend. I don't have many of those," Phil noted. "The fact that everyone is keeping the truth from Sid is horseshit. He's either going to remember or he's not going to remember, but dancing around it because everyone is too scared to find out is stupid. They need to just rip off the band-aid."

"I wish it was that easy for me," Claude said sadly, looking at the book on the table that he and Sid had both been reading before the accident, the bookmark only fifty pages from the end, though Claude had yet to convince himself to keep reading it. 

"You texted one of them to come get him, that's a start," Phil said encouragingly, or at least hoped it had come out encouragingly. "Will they text you to let you know what happens?"

"Probably," Claude admitted. "Not sure I'm ready for that yet."

"That's fine, it's not like you have anything else to do since you decided to quit hockey."

"You're still not letting this go, are you?" Claude asked with annoyance, shooting a look at Phil who just grinned devilishly in return. 

"I've told you how I feel about your decision, it still hasn't changed," Phil retorted, crossing his legs on the coffee table to try and find a more comfortable position. 

"Of all people I thought you'd understand," Claude said with a sigh for what felt like the eight hundredth time as he and Phil had, had this conversation several times since he had told Phil his decision to step down from hockey and even more times in the five-hour car ride back to Pittsburgh since Claude was choosing to run away from his responsibilities instead of facing them head on.

But hey, at least he took the garbage out.

"And of all people I thought you'd understand why I couldn't stop," Phil said in reply, the same shit eating grin still present on his face. "I still think your an idiot."

"You know for someone who is supposed to be helping me, you sure do call me an idiot a lot," Claude noted with a pointed look which only managed to make Phil grin harder which was weird enough in itself. "Are you going to call me an idiot every day I am here?"

"Probably," Phil said with a smirk, laughing as Claude rolled his eyes and pulled a blanket over himself from the back of the couch.

"I'm leaving immediately in that case."

"How's that going for you?" Phil asked as Claude burrowed down into the pillow and blankets around him, pulling the blanket up under his chin at the same time he lifted the bottom to tuck his feet under.

"I'm leaving the second the movie we decide to watch is done and the world warms up because it's fricking freezing in here," Claude responded, though he made no move to actually leave, nor did he have any sort of conviction in his tone whatsoever.

"Good, I'm offended by your hair on principle and I can't even see it anymore," Phil said casually, smiling again when Claude choked out a surprised laugh, having caught on to the fact a few days previous that Claude preferred when people were head on about what had happened to him and realizing he sort of preferred it too.

"I hate you."

"No you don't."

"I really do."

"I'll make grilled cheese for dinner?" Phil offered, watching the other man's interest perk up and still questioning why he was helping him.

"With extra cheese?"

"I'll even make seconds."

"Just kidding, I'm staying forever," Claude said with a soft smile, a happy feeling settling in his chest that at least one person in his life truly did care about him.

"I take it all back, get out," Phil said, turning the movie on and settling in as the other man's laughs echoed in the vast room.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1) Hello! Gosh, I'm sorry it's been so long, I had no intentions for this chapter to be posted so long after the last one, my life has just been crazy lately. Not sure why I decided to apply for grad school, make my christmas gifts, work full time and watch hockey, but needless to say I don't have a lot of free time and I don't sleep so all errors are my own and please feel free to point them out.
> 
> 2) I was saying in one of the other chapters that I wasn't sure how I felt about the different points of view in these chapters, but the more I write the more I love it? Had a ton of fun writing the second and third sections so I hope you guys like it too.
> 
> 3) Sid is an idiot and that's the moral for this story if that wasn't already totally obvious. I don't honestly know why I am writing him so selfishly, but I hope that it works to lead in to where this story is going.
> 
> 4) Let me know what you think and if you liked this chapter since it's been a while since I wrote anything. Much love and as always, feel free to come hang out at hobrerek.tumblr.com. Until the next chapter! x


	6. Memories

i.

They had only been sitting outside the house for a few minutes when Sid finally looked up from his phone, a heavy feeling settling on his chest and restricting his ability to breathe as he closed the message from Claude and sniffled loudly in the enclosed space, ignoring the helpless look of Pascal in the rear-view mirror who was watching him intently.

The feeling of home washed over Sid as he looked upon the rugged exterior of the building in front of him, the brickwork up the front of the house similar to that of an ancient castle, though the rest of the house was scattered with large windows and a more rustic appearance which suggested that there had been two people building the house. With a quirk of his lips and a long look back at the brickwork, Sid smiled as he tried to imagine his husband and him arguing over the best way to design a house and settling on the beautiful atrocity that stood before him, somehow a perfect mixture of a two of them that Sid would never know.

Without a word, Sid pushed open the door of the vehicle, pulling his cap down away from the setting sun which burned the back of his eyes and closed the door with a gentle thud behind himself, stepping forward so he was in line with the passenger side window.

Turning to look at Kris, Sid could only see anger reflected back at him, though the longer he stared the more he saw that anger morph into something desperate and sad, neither of which Sid was entirely prepared to examine too closely.

Straightening his shoulders, Sid nodded at both Pascal and Kris, giving them a soft smile and turning back to the house, needing the silence that encompassed him to keep him from turning back and running as far from here as he could go. Sid knew he should have said goodbye to his friend's, should have asked them for their opinion on what he was about to face, but he also knew that he needed to do this alone, that letting someone else witness his heartbreak was something he wasn't prepared to allow them to do, not now and maybe not ever if he wasn't ever going to get his bond or his soulmate back.

Stepping forward, Sid's hands shook as he reached for the door, pushing the key in his right hand into the lock and turning it back, the noise reverberating in the silence, the only noise to be heard that of a car in the distance and the sound of Sid's heart beating too loudly in his chest.

Without looking back, Sid reached out a hand to push the door open, the darkness that awaited him filled with a million reasons to turn back and a million and one reasons to face his fear and walk through the haze of his clouded memory.

Taking a few steps forward, Sid dropped his keys in a tray that lay atop a small glass table, the move completely instinctual, so instinctual that a sinking feeling settled in his gut almost immediately, his gaze meeting his own eyes in the mirror above the table, his black hat unable to hide the black bags under his eyes and the sallow look to his already pale looking skin, his expression a mixture of resigned fate and untampered fear.

Shutting the front door softly behind him, Sid closed his eyes briefly as he let his feet move him further into the house, sixteen steps down the remainder of the front hall, one half step to his right at the bottom of the staircase, another two steps to his left past the dining room table and a hand trailed beside his body coming into contact with the soft leather of what was unmistakably his couch, as his body slowed to a halt in a wide space that could only be the living room.

Standing there, at the doorway to the room that he had first made love to his husband eight years ago, Sid's eyes crested over each of the photos on the mantle across the room, taking in the look of love and yearning present on the faces of the men in each of the photos, the man that Sid recognized as a past self, a self that had a husband and felt happiness and knew what it meant to find love in the precious sanctity of a soulbond, to be cherished forever and in the afterlife for as long as could be.

This Sid though, the Sid sinking to his knees in his own living room feeling like he didn't belong in his own home, knew that he'd never be that man again, because even though he could see the tangible proof of the life he had built for himself in this room in striking black and white shades, he couldn't remember a damn part of it.

 

ii.

Sid didn't know how long he sat there at the entrance to his living room, tears for a forgotten life streaming down his face as his chest heaved and his breaths came in heavy gasps.

Eventually though, the tears dried and Sid's breath settled, air pushing in and out of his lungs evenly as the room began to chill and the feeling of crushing disappointment ebbed ever so slightly.

Wiping at his eyes with the back of his hands, Sid ran two tired hands across his face, placing them on his lap to give himself enough leverage to push off the floor, eyes settling on the series of photographs on the mantle across from him, drawing him closer as he instinctively stepped around the table, the World War II history books spread across the black stained surface, forgotten in the haste of getting ready for the Stadium Series all those weeks ago.

As he neared, Sid felt as his breath hitched though he forced himself to tamp it down as he reached out for the first photo on the mantle. His fingers brushed across the cool metal of the silver frame, a picture of him and a handsome ginger man kissing on the ice, the Stanley Cup visible in the background in what could only be the celebration from Sid's second cup win, a wide grin on his own face, even as he kissed his husband who's gold wedding band could be seen on his left hand where he was cupping Sid's face.

Putting the photo down with a sniffle, Sid stepped to his right, grabbing the three-piece frame off the mantle, running his fingers across the bearded face of a man he knew he should recognize, a man he knew was his husband smiling up at him, the red colour of his jersey unmistakable as the Team Canada jersey they had worn at the World Cup of Hockey last year. A picture of Sid in his own jersey was nestled in the right frame and in the middle Sid smiled at the sight of he and his team grouped together, one finger held up as they surrounded the trophy in the middle, their faces all wide with exuberance at coming out on top, a favourite pastime of all NHL players.

Placing the frames back on the mantle, Sid stepped right once more, picking up a picture of himself with his parents and his sister standing beside Claude and a woman with dark hair who was without a doubt Claude's sister, the other two people in the photo clearly his parents as the eight of them stood in front of a shell of a home that looked awfully like the one Sid was standing in now, Sid and Claude looking at each other in the photo instead of at the camera and grinning like school children as they celebrated the development of their first home together. 

Taking a shaky breath, Sid walked away from the mantle as he felt tears threatening to spill over, bringing a fist up to his mouth so he could ground himself in the pain as he bit into the hard flesh, turning back after a few brief moments and picking the frame up again, running his fingers over top of he and Claude, smiling at the happiness on his face, a happiness he didn't know he would be able to have.

As he placed down the black frame and picked up another silver frame to his right, Sid's smile wavered briefly as he made eye contact with the photo two down, pulling his gaze away abruptly and instead focusing on the picture of Claude with his arm slung around someone who looked eerily similar to him, a tall dark skinned male standing behind him, the three men laughing at Sid who stood off to the side with an incredibly unamused expression on his face. Though the picture was ridiculous and clearly one his husband had wanted to put up, Sid could admit that it looked like there had been quite a story behind the photo, especially if the egg yolk dripping down his hair and onto his face in the photo was any indication.

A genuine smile tugged at the corner of Sid's lips as he looked at the next photo, a collage of four photos, each interspersed with the words "then" or "now," a picture of both Sid and Claude when they were kids side by side with the two of them in their respective captain's jerseys, showing the growth they had endured to get to where they were now, successful hockey players and husbands. Or at least it had been that way.

With shaking hands, Sid reached forward and put the frame back on the mantle, catching it when it shifted slightly, almost knocking off the one to the right which he snatched off the mantle and pulled to his chest protectively, his fingers curled in the golden frame, his breath coming in small gasps as a feeling he couldn't quite place washed over him. Pulling the frame back from his chest after a long moment, Sid whimpered into the silence around him as his eyes came to rest on the photo in the frame, one he didn't recognize.

Sid stood on the right of a large arch laced with beautiful flowers, a weeping willow seen in the distance across a lake that Sid recognized as the one in his backyard in Nova Scotia. Dressed in a black suit and tie, a fond smile graced his face as Kris, Flower, Geno and Pascal stood behind him, dressed in similar fashion and faces beaming with happiness.

Claude stood on the left of the arch, dressed in a black suit with a sleek black bowtie around his neck, the same men from an earlier frame standing behind him, though an older gentleman stood right behind Claude, his face spread in an open expression of love, fondness and pride that told Sid that this has been Claude's best man. 

Between them stood a man dressed in white, his hands spread out before him as Sid and Claude clasped hands across his body, eyes locked on each other as they smiled, Sid in the motion of placing a ring onto Claude's finger, the same ring from the first photo on the mantle.

Placing the frame gently down on the mantle, Sid took two careful steps back and sank down onto the floor beside the entertainment system, using all the techniques he knew how to use to keep his breathing under control and to keep himself from dissolving into tears once more, the only thing he ever seemed to do lately and the one thing he seemed to not be able to control.

"I'm so sorry," Sid whispered into the empty room around him, whispering the words over and over again as he wrapped his arms around his legs, rocking back and forth gently as he tried to stop the shaking that seemed to be ready to consume him. 

Looking up for a brief moment just to look at anything but his own being, Sid's eyes locked on a white case sitting in the DVD cabinet in front of him to the right of the fireplace, the white of the case a stark contrast to the rest of the movies which appeared to all have dark covers. More than that, however, the words written in thick black sharpie along the spine of the cover were what drew Sid in as his brows furrowed in confusion, his legs moving on their own accord as he slowly rose to his feet and walked towards the case, reaching out and gently wrestling the movie from the shelf.

With a deep breath, Sid turned the cover towards him, grateful that the front of the case was the same as the side, the words "Sid and Claude's Wedding 2013" staring tauntingly back up at him as he tried to decide if he was willing to watch the video. Opening the case and taking a long look at the white disc nestled inside, Sid pulled his gaze away to look at the entertainment system for a moment in confusion, stepping forward and pushing a button that opened a drawer for the disc to go into, though Sid wasn't totally sure how he had done it if he were being honest.

Closing the drawer, Sid barely managed to keep himself from jumping when the TV automatically came to life, the bright screen burning the back of his eyes as he tried to let them adjust to the harsh light, searching around until he found the somewhat familiar remote that controlled the Blu-ray player, turning back to face the screen to see a picture of he and his husband smiling at each other on the screen with the word "play" staring menacingly back up at him.

Settling on the couch uneasily, Sid pulled his knees up to his chest, a move he did very rarely but which helped keep him together when he felt like he was going to break apart. Taking a deep breath to keep himself calm, he reached down to grab the remote again and hesitantly hit enter, wincing as the screen faded to black and voices could be heard on the screen.

"Claude! Sid!" a young girl shrieked on the screen as the screen faded in to a young girl with pigtails running down a front walk, launching herself into Claude's arms who threw her up into the air with a massive smile on his face, Sid standing back and laughing, his familiar honking tone just barely able to be heard over the shrieks of Claude and the girl. The woman from an earlier photo that Sid thought might be Claude's sister walked down the walk after the little girl, a fond smile on her face as she and Claude embraced, Claude having just passed the little girl off to Sid who happily bounced her on his hip.

The screen faded and a moment Sid actually remembered came up as he re-watched his younger sister Taylor win the championship title in her first year in college pro hockey, stopping an opposing player on a breakaway and covering up with two seconds left to keep the score 3-2. A wide smile spread across his face as he watched his sister celebrate her win a few seconds later, his parents and himself who could also be seen celebrating on the camera, the penguins having been knocked out of the playoffs earlier that year meaning Sid had been able to make the game, Nathan Mackinnon behind the camera as they all rejoiced for a successful season for Taylor and her team.

The screen faded again and a series of photos started appearing on the screen, one of Sid's favourite songs playing over the video as he watched pictures of himself and his husband appear in quick succession on the screen, pictures of when they were kids, pictures of hockey games, special moments in their careers and then picture after picture of the two of them together.

There were pictures of Claude and Sid asleep on the couch that Sid was sitting on now, so entangled up in each other that it was hard to tell where one man ended and one man began.

There were pictures of Claude and Sid on vacation, the coastal line of what may have been Fiji pictured behind them as their red faces beamed into the camera.

There were pictures of Claude and Sid holding a large angler fish between them, Sid looking proud and Claude looking mildly horrified as Sid lived out his river monster dreams of catching such a large fish.

And then there were the other pictures. The hard pictures. The picture of Claude dropped to his knees on the ice after falling short in the Stanley Cup Final. The picture of Sid with his face encased in ice after breaking his jaw. The picture of Claude with his wrists heavily bandaged after having a double surgery, a nagging feeling in the back of Sid's brain telling him that he may have been involved in the injuries, though he didn't know how and he couldn't imagine why he would ever hurt his partner, though the feeling didn't seem to want to go away.

After countless images depicting the rough times that he and Claude had gone through over the years, the screen faded once more and a video of Kris Letang popped up, his eyes glazed with happiness as he looked into the camera.

"Hey mon amies! I just want to say I am so happy for the both of you and I am so glad you are finally getting married," Kris said with a laugh, cutting himself off and looking down momentarily before picking up his son Alex who was red faced and giggling. 

"Hi Uncle Sid, hi Uncle Claude!" Alex said on the camera, waving directly at the camera with a big grin on his face. "Je suis très content pour toi! Bonne journée de mariage!"

Sid laughed at the video of his favourite nephew, bringing his hand up to his face to ground himself as happy tears danced in his eyes while Kris continued speaking.

"Have fun on your honeymoon. Love you guys. Welcome to the family officially Claude."

"Claude!" A man who looked eerily like Claude shouted into the camera as the next video started. "I'm so lucky that I've gotten to play with you for the last two years. You are one of my best friends and I love you tons dude. Congrats on your marriage to our arch enemy, make sure you keep him in line from time to time."

Sid choked out a laugh at the obscene look on the man's face and couldn't stop admiring the fact that the two looked almost like brothers, though the other man's words had suggested that they were merely teammates and not in fact brothers.

A series of videos followed where Sid didn't recognize the individuals speaking but which he figured were some of Claude's teammates since for the most part the videos were directed at his husband and not himself, though he was somewhat included in them which warmed his heart for some reason he didn't understand.

Finally, the videos shifted back to people he knew and Sid laughed, smiled and broke out in red at the embarrassing, heartwarming and touching stories his teammates told, Geno and Flower especially filthy, though Duper's video brought Sid so close to tears that he couldn't imagine how he must have been feeling the day of the wedding when they showed this video if he was this emotional watching it now.

After what felt like the most intense of walks back down memory lane, white block text appeared over a black screen and Sid braced himself, grabbing the pillow to his right and pulling it to his chest as he watched himself walking down the aisle, his sister on his arm as his parents waited for him at the end of the makeshift walk, their faces spread in wide grins, tears tracking down his mom's face as the four of them embraced, Sid finally stepping away to take his place at the alter as his family members sat down.

Whoever was working the camera adjusted seamlessly and a moment later present Sid and past Sid both watched as his husband and husband-to-be walked up the aisle, his smile bright as he and Claude locked eyes on each other, their faces spread with looks of love and happiness as Claude walked up the two steps to the alter, stepping directly into Sid's space and wrapping his arms around him, burying his face in Sid's neck as Sid himself choked out a surprised laugh as he watched his husband wrap himself around him, though he could tell how happy it made him that he had done that.

Stepping back, Claude reached up and adjusted Sid's tie at the same time that Sid reached up to adjust Claude's bowtie, both men smiling fondly at each other as they eventually stepped back, hands clasped as they turned to the priest who motioned for everyone behind them to sit down and let the ceremony begin.

"Today there will be no dearly beloved, no betrothed, and no ancient rhyme of the married," the priest began.

"Today there are no dead languages to solemnize vows that are very much alive and will remain so for a lifetime."

"Today promises become permanent and friends become family."

"However, this day is not about the words spoken or the rings exchanged, nor is it about grand pronouncements and recessional marches."

"This day – the day of Sidney and Claude’s wedding – is about love."

"One of my favorite authors once wrote, 'If love is not all, then it is nothing: this principle, and its opposite, collide down all the years of my breathless tale.'"

"Sidney and Claude, your breathless tale is about to begin."

"If love is not all, then it is nothing."

"It's opposite – If love is all, then it is everything – is going to be the basis for every aspect of your relationship."

"All you have to do is simply love one another and that love shows through in everything you do for one another, how you treat each other, in good times and bad."

"Love isn’t just a word; it’s an action."

"Love isn’t something you say, it’s something you do."

"Love is genuine, honest, and open, compassionate and kind, passionate and blind, love doesn’t know space or time, nor look through jealous eyes, and in the modified words of Paul in his letter to the Corinthians, 'Love bears all things, believes all things, hopes all things, and endures all things.'"

"Love never dies.”

"There are many different kinds of love, almost if not all of which are represented here today."

"There is romantic love, soulbond love, the love of parents and children, of brothers and sisters and family, and love among friends."

"Not only do Sidney and Claude love one another romantically – and they do, you can see it in every look, every touch, every moment they’re together – they also love one another as friends."

"In fact, they’re best friends, constantly giggling and taunting and teasing and very plainly and obviously having fun together."

"That love and enjoyment of each other as best friends will sustain them through this marriage."

"In addition, the love collectively in this room, from friends and family, will help sustain and support the promises they make today."

"All of us here will help solidify this bond, as these two individuals are joined as husbands."

"This new journey will be at times richly rewarding and extremely difficult, but, most importantly, it will be a journey you take together."

"Marriage is much more than your signatures on a legal contract."

"You are promising, in front of all these people you love, that you want to be with each other and only each other for the rest of your lives, and that you will do everything in your power to honour the promises you are making here today, to honour your soulbond and to honour each other."

"For their part, the people who love you will also do everything in their power to try to help you hold up your end of the bargain."

"You are not alone, nor will you ever be alone ever again as long as you have each other. Sidney, would you like to share with us your vows?"

Sid didn't know when he had started crying, but he wiped at his eyes to keep the screen from going blurry as he watched he and Claude smiling at each other, his family and friends looking on with smiles and tears of their own as Sid turned back to Claude and clasped his hands between his on the screen.

"Claude," Sid started, smiling when Claude took a deep breath to stop himself from crying on the screen. "Four years ago I saw a flash of colour as I walked past the Flyers locker room and knew then and there that if my soulmate was indeed inside that room that our love was never going to be easy."

"When I realized that I had a soulmate that day, I thought for sure that it was doomed to fail, that no one that worked for an enemy team was possibly going to love me and that there was no way another player would want to come out publicly as gay. Then I met you."

"The first time I laid my eyes on you I saw a scared little boy like me with bright orange hair and bright eyes who stared at me with wide eyes and then proceeded to run as soon as the puck dropped," Sid said to the amusement of the crowd as Claude's cheeks coloured.

"At first I didn't understand how I could possibly be bonded to someone who didn't even want to look at me, but as I watched that game and I watched you playing I saw a man with a fierce determination to win, who was competitive and strong and dedicated and ready to leave it all on the ice. I never thought in a million years that, that man would one day become my husband, especially not after he wouldn't speak to me after the game."

"I'm pretty sure I watched every single one of your games over that next month, wanting to get to know the player better. But when I cornered you after that second game and made you go out for dinner with me it wasn't the player that I found myself falling in love with, but the person."

"I fell in love with the man who thinks grilled cheese should be its own food group, who won't drink coffee and orange juice at the same time because he's convinced it will make his teeth rot, who had a panic attack after swallowing a piece of gum because he was always told it would kill him if he did."

"I fell in love with the man who broke down in our bed after getting knocked out of the playoffs, who picked me up after my injuries, who encouraged me even when it was hard because even if we are about to be married, that doesn't make the fact that we are captains of enemy teams any easier."

"I fell in love with the man who taught me how to open up and trust people, who taught me the different between gentle touches and loving touches, who taught me the difference between sex and making love, who taught me what it means to give love and experience love every single day. I fell in love with you Claude and it was the best damn thing that's ever happened to me in my life. I love you and nothing in this world would make me happier than spending the rest of my life with you. Thank you for wanting to be my husband."

Sid couldn't deny the fact that tears were streaming down his face at this point as he gross sobbed into the pillow in his chest, the words he had just finished speaking resonating in his chest as his heart warmed with the clear love for the other man he had, even if he couldn't remember a single moment of it.

Stopping to pause the movie for a minute, Sid grabbed some Kleenex from the side table and blew his nose, dropping the used tissue onto the couch beside him and grabbing another until his eyes were sufficiently wiped and his nose was clearer than it had been as he reached out and grabbed the remote to push play on the video, watching himself rub at his eyes as Claude took his turn sharing his vows.

"When I was a kid I always imagined I would get married to a pretty blonde girl with blue eyes and we'd have three kids and two dogs and we'd go on trips together and everything would be great," Claude started. "Or at least that's what I thought I was supposed to want because the idea of being gay was frankly terrifying."

"That first day when I looked up across the faceoff dot and suddenly could see colours, I didn't freak out because I could actually see everything around me because I wasn't looking at anything around me. I freaked out that first day because when I looked up that first day the first thing I saw was you and you were the most beautiful thing I had ever seen."

"I can't say I handled that day very well, nor the next month very well either as I counted the days until I was going to play you again. I never expected you to corner me and tell me that you were taking me out, nor did I expect that I was going to find myself falling in love with you as we sat across from each other in the diner, awkwardly sharing stories about our childhoods and our hockey careers so far."

"It amazes me every single day that you don't see what I see when I look at you. The handsome man that I am going to get to call my husband after today is strong and brave, loyal to a fault, determined, never satisfied, a giant pain in the ass, metaphorically, literally sometimes," Claude added with a wink as both Sid's let out a surprised huff of laughter at the crude joke as Claude continued around the laughter of those in attendance. "He's kind, unforgiving when he wants to be, a stubborn bugger at the best of times, but he cares about everyone around him and wants to protect the people he loves. Wants to protect me."

"Today I get to become Claude Crosby-Giroux, which means I get to keep a piece of you with me for the rest of my life. I get to come home to our home and see the life that we've built there together. I get to go on vacations with my best friend, explore the world and go on adventures. I get to retire and adopt a kid and raise a family with you by my side. I get a chance at having a love so strong that the world grows brighter just at the thought of it. I get you, for now and for always and that's the only thing I am ever going to need. I love you Sid, always."

 

iii.

"Sid. Eight years ago I fell in love with a man who I thought I was going to spend the rest of my life with. A man who loved me unconditionally, supported me even when I didn't deserve it, who picked me up when I was down. Now it's my turn to support you and I can't because you don't even know who I am. I can't put into words how much it hurts to lose you, to lose what we had together. For a few days I held out thinking that this was all a crazy dream and that I'd wake up one day and it would all go away, but I think we both know now that this isn't going to go away. Our soulbond is gone and as the world faded I had to come face to face with the realization that I was never going to get you back. I love you so goddamn much Sid, but I can't do this. Eventually you are going to get better and you're going to go back to hockey and you'll move on, but I can't Sid. I can't move on from this. I'm texting you to let you know that I've decided to step down from the team. Management is giving me until August to decide what I want to do, but if I am being honest I don't see there being any way that I can go back without you by my side. I know you are probably going to read this and wonder who is this crazy person messaging me, but I just want you to know that I loved you with all my heart. Goodbye Sid, get well soon."

Claude looked down at his phone, his hands shaking as he looked at the message he had sent to Sid the other day, followed by two messages from Sid that had just come in.

"Don't give up on me yet."

"I'm sorry Claude. Just please don't give up on us yet."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1) I cannot believe it has been a month since I posted. Hot damn, where did the time go??
> 
> 2) I won't say too much about the ending of this chapter, but just know that what Sid says in the text is very indicative of where this story is going to go. Which may or may not be up from here. Maybe.
> 
> 2) I used Google Translate for Alex's French bits so "Je suis très content pour toi! Bonne journée de mariage" translates roughly to "I'm very happy for you! Happy wedding day!" (Or at least I think it does)
> 
> 4) Hopefully you are still enjoying this story. Let me know what you think of this one which was admittedly a little bit sad and as always, come hang out at hobrerek.tumblr.com. Much love xo


	7. Rekindling

i.

"For the hundredth time, no Phil!"

"Claude, you're being ridiculous."

"How am I being ridiculous right now? I am totally justified in my freaking out."

"You're going for lunch with your husband, Claude, not the devil. You'd think you were going for lunch with Gary Bettman with how you're acting!"

"I think I'd rather go for lunch with Bettman," Claude muttered under his breath as he slowed his pacing around Phil's living room, shooting the other man a dirty look before plopping down on the couch with a heavy sigh.

"It's Sid. You know Sid," Phil pointed out, holding his hand up to halt the outpouring of words from the other man. "Whether he remembers you or not, you still know him. He's still the same person you fell in love with all those years ago."

"That doesn't change the fact he doesn't remember me."

"That doesn't change the fact he doesn't remember me," Phil parroted back, his voice high and whiny to match Claude's. "Boo hoo, shut up."

"You have absolutely zero sympathy when this has been a rather stressful and difficult situation for me!" Claude said with purpose. "You are a terrible friend Philip."

"Yes, how terrible," Phil deadpanned. "How terrible a friend I am for supporting you after the accident, taking you in, coming to rescue you after your media scrum, helping you write a letter to Sid, feeding you inordinate amounts of grilled cheese at all hours of the day and sending you care packages while I am playing away. Truly, how terrible."

"Pft," Claude huffed, crossing his arms across his chest and making a face, mouthing the words mockingly in Phil's general direction. "Whatever hater. Ten out of ten word choice by the way."

"My point exactly," Phil replied with a quirk of his lips, ignoring the second half of Claude's comment. "Now stop being a giant baby, you make it sound like you're dying, it's exhausting."

"I think you'd like that if I died. You'd probably be the first one to offer to plan the funeral," Claude retorted grumpily.

"If you don't shut up, I may very well be."

"I honestly don't know what's more concerning, the fact that I'm not sure you're kidding or the fact you'd probably do a good job."

"What can I say, I have a lot of experience with funerals," Phil responded carefully, watching Claude's face as he grimaced and shrunk in on himself, crossing his arms more tightly around his body and turning to face Phil when he realized he was watching him.

"Okay, point taken," Claude conceded. "But that still doesn't change the fact that I'm fucking terrified right now."

"He was stupid enough to fall in love with you once, who says he won't fall in love with you again?"

"Why do you have to be like that Philip? This is a difficult time for me and y-"

"And you're not helping, yeah, yeah," Phil interrupted crossly. "I'm being like this because you're hiding from your problems and it's stupid. You still haven't even seen your husband since the accident. The stadium series was three weeks ago, Claude. Three!"

"Whatever Gandhi, since you seem to have all the answers, what exactly am I supposed to say to him when I see him? 'Hello Sid, nice to meet you, I'm Claude your husband, but you don't remember me, so you can just call me Claude.'"

"I might just start with hello."

"Oh my god, you are no help," Claude said with a groan, dropping down further on the couch and kicking his feet petulantly into the air.

"At least you still have a husband to say hello too."

"Philip, you can't use Stella against me for everything. She isn't a means to all ends option here."

"Yes, but she is dead. Sid is not. Take what you can."

Claude sighed, staring resolutely at the ceiling for a few long moments before turning his head to stare at Phil.

"Okay fine, but what the hell am I supposed to wear?"

 

ii.

"No! Hard no. Nope, nope, noppity nope, not happening, you can't make me!" Sid said petulantly from where he sat on the floor of Kris' living room a few days later, Pascal, Flower and Kris sitting on the couches around him.

"You're the one who suggested it!" Flower pointed out for the millionth time that morning. "You can't invite your husband for lunch and then decide you aren't going."

"I can and I will and there's nothing you can do to stop me! This is stupid."

"You're stupid, mon amie. You married Claude once, what makes you think you aren't going to fall in love with him again?"

"I don't know, maybe the fact that I don't remember anything about him? Or the fact I found out what he looked like from a TV screen? Or the fact that even though I've watched our wedding video eleven times since I found it and have been through our photo albums repeatedly, I don't remember doing any of it?"

"So why did you invite him out then?" Pascal asked softly, though he rubbed his hands over his haggard face and shook his head to keep himself calm as even he was losing his patience dealing with a four-year old like Sid more obnoxious than all four of his kids acting up at the same time combined.

"I looked so happy in that video," Sid said softly, not looking up from where he was staring at the floor. "I never thought I was going to find that in my life and apparently I did and now I can't remember it. I'd do anything to get that back..."

"Avoiding going for lunch isn't going to help with that Sid."

"I want to remember him so badly guys. So, so badly. But I've got nothing, absolutely zero recollection. The last few nights I've been staring at my ceiling trying to think of what we did together and my mind just runs rampant on what I think it could have been like, not what it actually was like. Am I being selfish for going on this lunch?"

"How is that being selfish?" Kris asked from the corner where he was nursing a beer despite the fact it was only 9:11 in the morning (this situation was stressful okay? So sue him, he needed alcohol).

"Because it's going to hurt him to see me and realize I actually don't remember him? It will be real then."

"Not seeing you is real enough. Knowing you are hurting and not being able to help is real enough. You not wearing your wedding ring is real enough. He knows Sid. He's probably just as terrified as you are," Kris pointed out gently, making a face at the surprised faces from the other two men at his for once kind remarks.

"Where is my wedding ring anyways? Did I lose it?" Sid asked in horror, looking up and eyes darting around frantically between his three friends.

"It's in a bag on your front table, I left it there will all of your belongings that were with you when you got released from the hospital when I came to visit you the other day," Pascal said gently. "Luckily the chain didn't get damaged in your hit which is sort of miraculous."

"Chain?" Sid asked in confusion, once again looking between his friends for an answer.

"You and Claude both wear your wedding rings on a band around your neck so you can wear them during games," Kris supplied. "You never take that thing off."

"Oh," Sid replied after a pause, trailing his fingers lightly over his collarbone as he had done several times that morning. "Maybe that's why I keep touching my neck, because something is missing."

"Very well may be," Kris agreed amicably, rolling his eyes at the look Pascal shot him at the hint of sarcasm that had creeped its way into his tone. "Now, back to the lunch you are going on in two-ish hours."

"I feel like I'm going on a blind date I'm so nervous," Sid said with an audible exhalation, shaking his arms out to his side. "What do I say? What do I do? Do I open up from the get go or play coy? God, I just need to get this lunch over with and either my life falls apart more than it already has or things start to look up."

"Well, why don't you treat it like it's a blind date?" Pascal suggested, mulling the idea over in his head. "It's not the worst plan. You could always text Claude ahead of time to let him know the game plan, that way things aren't forced and you can go at your own pace."

"Might suck for Claude though," Kris said considering. "But that's actually not a half bad idea. Especially since you don't remember him anyways and while neither of you are exactly what we'd describe as 'patient,' Claude is the better bet out of the two of you at keeping his cool and being able to keep the conversation running."

"Also, he really loves you" Flower tacked on with a grin to help lighten the mood. "And not just for your ginormous ass."

"What does my ass have to do with this?" Sid said crossly, turning to shoot a glare at his friend who was laughing behind him on the couch. "My ass isn't even all that big."

"Mon amie, do not lie to yourself. You are every guy's wet dream and Claude's real dream. That man worships your ass, it's hilarious. Whatever you do, don't go on his Twitter account before your date. Or do, but don't say I didn't warn you!"

"Please don't go on Twitter at all actually," Kris said sternly, shooting a look at Flower who just held his hands up in surrender with a grin spread across his features.

"Sid?" Pascal pushed with a furrowed brow as he looked down upon Sid who sat motionless and wide eyed on the floor after Flower's inappropriate comment a moment earlier.

"Oh my god. What am I going to wear?"

 

iii.

Sid fidgeted nervously at the table of the cafe, looking down at his watch to see that it was 11:58 and Claude was bound to turn up any minute now if he actually showed up at all.

Sid had opted to wear a pair of dark wash jeans that hugged his curves, a dark purple Henley which Flower encouraged he wear since he couldn't see it himself to pick and a pair of shoes that seemed fancier than something he might normally wear, but weren't too fancy to be considered dress shoes (or so he hoped).

The cafe around him was empty save for the man and the woman behind the counter who were conversing quietly in Italian, paying Sid no heed as they wiped down the bar and shifted things around in the display case. Sid wasn't sure if it was helping his nerves or not that the two weren't paying him any attention, but that had also been part of the reason he had chosen this place to meet up because he had heard of the owners' ability for discretion.

A soft chiming to his left drew Sid's attention and he turned to watch as the most attractive man he had ever seen walked through the door of the cafe, pulling his sunglasses from his face and tucking them into the collar of his t-shirt as he strode into the shop.

The man was wearing a pair of black jeans with a button-down grey shirt that was rumpled in all the right places, the top button undone and his hair nicely styled, the red much more obvious in person than it had been on the screen as it shone almost grey/black to Sid's darkened eyes. Sid gulped audibly as the other man began to look around the cafe in search of him, still trying to process that the man walking towards him was his husband, was "his."

Claude's gaze finally settled on Sid as he pushed his chair back and stood up, the other man's lips turning up in a soft smile as he saw his husband alive and well and openly gawking at him in awe, surprise and a significant amount of what he hoped was attraction.

"Hello Sidney," Claude said softly as he slowed to a halt a respectable distance from his husband who was looking him over, eyes trailing over his face, down the length of his torso and up his legs, the way Sid would often do if Claude ever complained he was hurting from a game. A pang of pain washed over Claude when he realized what Sid was doing without even realizing he was doing it, but he appreciated the gesture more than he was willing to interrupt him to get him to stop.

"Uh, hi," Sid stammered a moment later, eyes snapping up to Claude's when he registered that the other man had spoken. "Thanks for coming."

"Why wouldn't I have come?" Claude said with a forced laugh, grimacing slightly when Sid shot him a condescending look that told him exactly why he might not have come. "I only debated about not coming for a few hours, I worked through it, it's fine."

"And by few hours you mean since I sent you that text, right?" Sid said with a pointed look, though he looked far more amused than Claude was prepared for.

"For someone who doesn't remember me, that's awfully observant," Claude replied before he could catch himself, closing his eyes at the look of surprise and hurt that crossed Sid's face before he had been able to block it out.

"That was pretty tactless, I'm sorry," Claude said after a moment, opening his eyes to see the other man watching him warily. "I'm not totally sure how to go about this. Do I pretend like we are meeting for the first time? Do I pretend like I don't know what you are going to order since you always order the same thing or do I just be honest about the fact I know every thing about you and let you ask me as many questions as you want?"

"We could sit down first and order a drink?" Sid suggested, stepping back hurriedly and bumping into the chair behind him, arms flailing as he caught onto the table with a bang, making an embarrassed noise at the impact.

"Smooth," Claude bit out without thinking, letting himself laugh at Sid's expense who was now turning a bright red, though the other man seemed to collect himself relatively quickly.

"See if I pull your chair out for you now you dick," Sid replied right after, sinking into his chair pointedly and then realizing what he said, a confused expression crossing his features at how natural it had been to quip with the other man. "Hm."

"If you're wondering," Claude started, moving to take his place across the table from Sid. "This bickering is pretty normal for us."

"Understatement," a deep voice scoffed and Claude turned to look up at the cafe owner in amusement who was shaking his head at the two of them. "You two always arguing over everything. 'No Claude, don't touch my tiramisu.' 'We're married you asshole, what's mine is yours and what's yours is mine, pass it over you greedy bugger.' You two are exhausting."

"You love us Alfonso," Claude said with a large grin, turning to catch Sid's gaze who was smiling gently, though he looked one part confused and three parts sad since he clearly didn't remember what they were all referring too.

"Don't worry Sid," Alfonso said once he caught Sid's expression. "Even if you don't remember, you two will be back at it in no time. You can make new memories here."

"I hope so," Sid replied softly, his expression still sad as he turned his attention back to the menu. "Shall we order?"

"Sure, what will you have?" Claude asked innocently, eyes staring at the bottom option on the left side of the menu as he tried to keep himself from smiling.

"You totally know what I am going to get don't you?" Sid questioned Claude with a roll of his eyes before turning to Alfonso and repeating the question.

"Sid, you've been coming here for ten years and the only thing you've changed is the dessert you get. But I pretend if you feel better."

"Why do I have a feeling coming here was a mistake?" Sid said pointedly, shooting a look at Alfonso who laughed and waddled back to the kitchen, muttering in Italian the entire way.

"The food here is delicious, I'm glad you suggested it actually," Claude replied as he reached for the water that had magically appeared on the table while the two had been talking to Alfonso, Sid noting with a pang that he wasn't wearing his wedding ring. "You're not going to find me complaining."

"We've been here before?"

Claude hesitated briefly before steeling himself to be honest with his husband, even if what he was about to say was probably going to come as a bit of a surprise.

"We came here for our first date. You found this place after getting into an argument with Mario during your first year in the league and you ran away and came here. Alfonso and Giovanna thought you were too skinny and tried to fatten you up with their desserts and you were hooked once you tried your now favourite meal. A and G are like family. I can't tell you how many times they've shut down early for us to meet up here when we first started dating and hadn't come out yet and how many times they've done it since so we could just get away, like today I imagine."

"You're not saying something," Sid said cautiously after a second, eyes tracking over the other man's face and feeling nervous about Claude realizing what he had done about having the cafe closed for the afternoon. "And?"

"And they catered our wedding," Claude said gently, pursing his lips and looking down at his hands which were tangled in his lap. "Like I said, they're like family."

"Why on earth would you let us come here if we have so much history here?" Sid asked aghast. "Why would you do that to yourself?"

"Because you chose this place because it makes you feel safe and I am all about keeping you safe," Claude responded, raising his eyes to meet Sid's. "This might be hard for me, but you're my husband. Or were anyways. Even if I'm not sure what's going to happen between us, you will always mean the world to me, even if I'm following your life behind a computer screen. I'd go to the end of the earth for you if you asked."

Sid gulped as he felt emotion press on the back of his eyes and in his throat as he processed what Claude had said. He had fully intended on coming into this lunch pretending like it was a blind date, but being upfront no matter how painful it might be seemed to be trending in a better direction.

"I wish I could say I remembered you," Sid started softly. "But the truth is I don't. I wish I did though. I'd give up anything to be able to remember you."

"Yeah," Claude responded sadly. "Me too."

"You've already given up enough for loving me," Sid said morosely. "Like your colours."

"I only got my colours for loving you," Claude pointed out and Sid smiled humourlessly at the thought.

"You're much more caring than me. I wore this shirt because Flower told me that it was one of your favourites, but you are wearing a black pair of pants and a grey shirt because they are neutral colours. I'm such a dick for not even thinking about that until now."

"That's my favourite shirt of yours because you look hot as fuck in it, the colour is just an added bonus. I remember what the colour looks like anyways though," Claude said lost in thought. "You're not a dick by the way."

"You're being too nice. And you're lying."

"Okay, you're not a dick about that," Claude amended. "In general, yeah, you're a relatively big dick."

"Wow," Sid said with a surprised laugh, barely catching the corner of Claude's lips turning up at the sound. "Your chirps must be awful."

Claude shifted uneasily in his chair at the mention of his former career, a motion that did not go unnoticed by Sid. A tense silence hung in the air as Sid appraised the other man before shifting forward and placing his elbows on the edge of the table.

"Can we agree not to talk about the H-word?" Sid asked with purpose. "It will be like Voldemort if you want."

"Holy shit, you remember watching Harry Potter but not me, what the fuck?" Claude exploded, throwing his hands up in the air in frustration much to Sid's amusement, his honking laugh slipping out before he could catch himself.

"I feel like there's a story here," Sid said between laughs, laughing harder at the affronted look on the grey-haired man.

"Damn right there's a story here," Claude said with force, looking up at Alfonso who had just walked over with a shirley temple for each of them and was eyeing them with amusement. "A, he remembers fucking Voldemort and not me. Do you know how long it took me to convince him to fucking watch Harry Potter for the first time?"

"Seven years, two months and six days," Alfonso reported dutifully, placing a comforting hand on Claude's shoulder before turning and waddling away leaving Sid's laugh slowly dying in the air.

"Seven years. Two months. SIX days, Sidney. That's a travesty and now you are telling me you remember Voldemort and not me? What the fuck?"

"I'd take that one up with my brain, it's the one who's fucked up," Sid said with another small laugh, ignoring the "you're fucked up you hater" that Claude muttered under his breath before reaching out and taking a sip of his drink.

"How much of this is genuine hurt and how much of this is shock and annoyance?" Sid asked genuinely, trying to tamp down his laughter for Claude's sake.

"I'd say a solid fifty-fifty."

"You're fine then," Sid said stoically, looking up at Claude through his eyelashes and watching the other man shake his head and physically bite his tongue to keep himself from saying what he had been about too. "Work in progress at the very least."

"You say that far too often," Claude replied with a sulk. "Memory loss or not, both versions of you Sid's are mean to me."

"Wouldn't it be worse if I was acting like a completely different person than the one you married though?" Sid pointed out.

"Yes, but if I could change a few things now would be the time," Claude replied cheekily.

"I thought you said I was the dick?"

"You are," Claude said with a gentle laugh. "Doesn't mean I'm not."

"As long as we have that established," Sid said with finality, nodding to himself before his breath stopped and his eyes caught on a chain that had shifted under Claude's shirt when he had sat back against his chair.

"What?" Claude asked after a moment, looking down at his shirt to see if he had spilled something. "Do I have something on my shirt?"

"No, er..." Sid trailed off, eyes still locked on the chain. "That chain? The one around your neck. Can I see it?"

"You want to see my hockey chain?" Claude replied as evenly as he could, his voice a bit shaky as he tried to change the subject immediately to anything else.

"Yes."

"Why? It's just a silver chain," Claude tried to say convincingly, feeling his palms begin to sweat nervously as he shifted uncomfortably in his seat.

"Please," Sid whispered, bringing his gaze up to meet Claude's before dropping back down. "Please just show me."

"I..." Claude floundered helplessly, closing his eyes in defeat after a few seconds and reaching into his shirt to pull out the silver chain weighed down by his wedding ring and letting it fall against his chest. "I couldn't not bring it. It wouldn't be right."

"I like that you did," Sid said with a gulp, meeting Claude's gaze and noting the terror reflected in his husband's eyes and deciding to take the plunge. "That's why I did the same."

Unbuttoning his top two buttons, Sid pressed back from the table a few inches so he could reach up properly and tug his own chain with his #87 pendant and his matching wedding ring from his shirt, rolling the wedding band between his fingers as he stared at Claude who was taken shaky shallow breaths to stay calm as tears pricked at the back of his eyelids.

"Oh wow," Claude managed after a moment. "You're wearing your wedding ring."

"I kept touching my neck the last few days because it felt like there was something missing. It turns out what was missing was my connection to you."

"You don't even know me," Claude whispered, his eyes locked on the symbol of their love.

"I'd like to try to get to know you though," Sid said boldly. "If you'd let me."

"I'd like that," Claude said wetly, wiping at the back of his eyes and sniffling loudly.

"But you have to promise me that if it gets too much that you will tell me so you can walk away. I have no idea how hard this must be for you, knowing everything we had, knowing me and me not knowing you, losing your colours. If being around me is going to cause you more pain then I'm gone and you'll never hear from me again," Sid said determinedly. "But if you are in for trying, then I'm all in too."

"When it comes to you, Sid, I've always been in."

"Good," Sid said with a soft smile, reaching out tentatively and placing one of his hands face up on the table. "So, I watched The Vow after I found our wedding video the other day."

"Yeah? And?" Claude questioned, looking back and forth between Sid's open hand and his soft expression before placing his hand in Sid's and squeezing their fingers together tightly.

"I don't want that to be our story," Sid said gently, returning the squeeze before loosening his grip lightly and rubbing slow circles into the back of Claude's hand.

"But they get back together at the end. Isn't that what you want?" Claude pressed with another sniffle, his eyes fracturing as he slowly started to fall to pieces before his husband.

"Of course it is. But she fought him the entire way. I don't want to do that to you. I don't want to ever not be all in this with you," Sid said with another encouraging squeeze of his partner's hand. "I loved you once. I can learn to love you again."

"That's some grade A sappy shit, Crosby," Claude deflected, wiping at his eyes with his free hand and awkwardly grabbing at his glass of water to take a long sip immediately after. "But falling in love isn't some sort of class or lesson you need to take. It shouldn't be a chore."

"What can I say, I was always a good student," Sid replied ominously. "But I want to learn everything about you again, no longer how long it takes and no matter how many times I fail."

"How did we go from not talking to each other for three weeks to this?" Claude asked in amazement, leaning forward and grabbing Sid's other hand. "Of course I'm all in Mr. Crosby-Giroux. One hundred per cent."

"Good," Sid whispered, his eye catching on Alfonso who was waddling towards them with two large plates of food, Sid swearing he caught a flash of something as he did before it quickly disappeared. "And Claude?"

"Yeah Sid?" 

"Happy eight-year anniversary."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1) Hey everyone! It's been a long ass time since I updated this story and first and foremost I am sorry.
> 
> 2) I have been actively debating between deleting this story and just pretending it never happened. I had what I thought was such a clear idea of what I wanted for this story when I first started and I've drifted so far astray from that. A close friend of mine suggested I give it one more shot, so I am posting this chapter and depending on people's reactions I may continue the story and finish it off or I may delete it. Like I said, I'm very undecided and I can't really tell you which way it's going to go.
> 
> 3) This chapter seemed much lighter than all six previous and that was intentional. It's only up from here.
> 
> 4) As always, come say hi at hobrerek.tumblr.com and thank you to everyone for the kudos, comments and subscriptions on all of my works. Means the world. Much love xo


	8. Onwards and Upwards

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one's for you guys. The story shall go on! x

i.

"And then he goes, 'happy eight year anniversary' as if that's not the most romantic and like crushing thing that he's ever said," Claude said fiercely as he paced around the living room, throwing his hands up in the air and pulling at his hair. "Stupid fucker for putting two and two together and still picking our anniversary to go on our first second date. And then, AND THEN to top it all off, he was a total gentleman for the rest of the date and was asking me about how living with Phil was and if I could tell him about my parents and just fuck me guys. Why is he always so perfect?"

"I think you need to breathe," Kris said with amusement, unable to stop the smile that was spread across his features from growing. "It sounds like it went well."

Claude shot Kris a look as he continued to pace around Pascal's living room, Flower, Pascal, Geno and Phil watching on as they tried to stifle their laughter behind their bottles of beer. 

"That's not the point Kristopher."

"Then what's point?" Geno asked. "Why upset that husband have good date still. Shouldn't ginger man be happy."

"I have a name Evgeni."

"I know, but ginger man more fun," Geno said cheekily. "And I no like you."

"You love me, shut up," Claude retorted, completely unfazed.

"So are you here because you are upset that things went well, or are you here because you want us to tell you how Sid was doing after he got back from the date since he came over?" Pascal asked knowingly, smiling gently when Claude pursed his lips and turned away from the group.

"He's mainly here because he doesn't have any other friends since he's been treating the Flyers like shit and punched the captain," Phil said pointedly. "And they don't know he's in Pittsburgh since he hasn't answered any of their messages since he left the team."

"You truly are a terrible friend Philip," Claude replied with a sigh as the other men erupted in noise around him.

"Claude!"

"Come on dude, seriously?"

"Why you no talk to friends in three weeks?"

"Dude, you're their captain!"

"I was there captain," Claude said thunderously, Flower having struck a nerve with his comment. "That was before one of my supposed best friend's injured my husband, put us in this situation and then never even had the decency to ask me if I'd be okay if he took my position which I'm not. It should have gone to Jake."

"They are your friends though," Pascal implored. "Your brothers. You're seriously going to throw that all away because of this?"

"Yes," Claude said simply. "I can't even look at them. You should have heard what they were saying in the locker room after the accident. I know it was just some of the younger guys, but if I heard what they were saying then they must have heard it too and they just stood there getting changed doing nothing. What kind of friends are those?"

"Ones who are scared for you," Pascal noted cautiously. "We could feel your anger from across the ice after the stretcher left, I'm sure they just didn't know what to say to you that was going to help."

"That doesn't mean shit," Claude retorted angrily before his face morphed and his expression went sullen. "They barely even tried."

"Are you telling us that they haven't even tried contacting you since you left the team though?" Flower asked with a frown.

"They have," Phil supplied after a few tense seconds as Claude looked determinedly anywhere but the faces of the men in front of him. "Simmonds, Voracek, Schenn, TK, Mason, everyone's been messaging him since he left, apologizing, asking him if he's okay, telling them they miss him. Claude just doesn't answer because he's an asshole."

"You're an asshole," Claude muttered under his breath as he sank into the pillows on the couch and pulled his legs up to his chest to protect himself from the pitying looks currently directed at him.

"Claude..." Pascal started, taking a deep breath before he continued. "That's not like you. You're always there for your friends and your teammates. You need these people in your life right now, not to be pushing them away. It's okay that you stepped down and yeah people might be mad at first, but they'll come around eventually. Leaving everything you love behind won't make this better."

"I didn't leave everything I love behind," Claude replied quietly. "Everything I love is Sid and he's here and that's where I need to be. It's not like it's overly hard to figure out where I am."

"So are you upset that they are potentially mad at you, or upset that they didn't come after you when you left?"

"Both," Claude whispered, tightening his hold around his knees. "Neither. I don't really even know how I feel other than angry. I'm so fucking angry at them. I thought teams were supposed to support each other?"

"That explains a lot," Kris said absentmindedly, drawing the attention of the other men in the room.

"Hm?" Claude hummed softly, turning to look at Kris with glazed eyes, lost in his own thoughts of loss and betrayal.

"Your mom called me the other day, wanted to know if I knew where you were. Told me she got my number from Simmonds who got it from Streit right after the deadline. I told her you were with Phil like you had been since the accident, I didn't realize she didn't know where you were."

"I love my parents, but if they had it their way I'd be locked up in my old bedroom back in Hearst where they think they can protect me from all this," Claude spoke with a sigh. "I told them I was going back and forth between Philly and Pittsburgh so they wouldn't worry."

"They know you not play anymore though right?" Geno asked, speaking up for the first time in as many minutes as he continued to update Sid on the current conversation via text, the aforementioned who was anxiously sitting on his couch at home wondering what he could do to help his partner.

"Yeah, they know that much," Claude replied with another long-suffering sigh. "They just don't know where I am. Or, I guess they do now that Kris told them, but I've tried to keep them at a distance for this one."

"It's not healthy cutting yourself off from all of your friends and family, Claude," Flower said in French, standing up and going to sit with Claude on the opposite couch.

"You're my friend," Claude retorted. "Everyone in this room is my friend except for Phil who is an asshole."

"I don't speak French, but I heard my name and 'asshole' in the same sentence and I'm offended on principle," Phil interrupted, not even bothering to look up from his phone where he was scrolling through the Institute of Soul Bond Relationships website in search of the doctor's name who had treated Sid when he had first been admitted into the hospital.

"Phil might be an asshole, but he cares for you. We all do," Kris supplied, the French language slipping easily off his tongue. "But even if we are your friends, those guys on your team were your brothers. Your family. You can't forget that."

"I don't even know what I would say to them," Claude responded after a moment of silence, still refusing to look at anyone, though he had leaned into Flower's touch who had slung an arm around him companionably when Kris and Phil had started talking. "I did punch the captain."

"No one blames you for punching him, Claude," Pascal said with a humourless laugh. "I don't even think Wayne blames you for punching him. But have you taken anytime to consider what he must be going through? Hurting one of his best friend's husbands in front of million of people, getting punched out and then being ignored when you try to apologize? We get why you are angry, but that's a lot of stress to put on a person and then have the added responsibility of being named captain mid-season. It's no surprise the team has dropped so far in the standings since then."

"Have they?" Claude asked genuinely. "I haven't looked at anything even remotely hockey related since the accident. I asked Phil to box it all up for me before I came here so I wouldn't have to look at it."

"I heard my name again, but I didn't hear any swear words so I consider this an improvement," Phil said blandly to the amusement of the french-speaking men in the room, Phil not looking up from where he was composing an email to the soul bond doctor while Geno sat on his left talking to Sid about Claude's mental state since neither man understood the language.

"Yes they have. They still have your locker set up for you and everything and your jersey gets hung up every game, home or away. They love you Claude. I really think it would do you good to go back and see them, just for a day," Pascal implored. 

"And at the very least you can punch Simmonds again," Kris said with a glint in his eye, causing a surprised burst of laughter to escape from Claude who turned to look at the other men for the first time in the conversation.

"I've put a lot of thought into this over the last month," Claude started, releasing his legs and leaning farther into Flower who seemed both surprised and appreciative of the change in position as Claude curled into his side, the other man always tactile, especially when he was drunk. "And I hate to say it, but I think you might be right."

"That's a first," Phil snorted and Pascal, Kris, Claude and Flower all turned to look at him with raised brows as they were still speaking in their native tongue. "What?"

"How did you know what he said? You don't speak French?" Kris asked accusingly, crossing his arms menacingly across his chest.

"I'm surrounded by French assholes all the time, you pick up things here and there," Phil said casually. "Also, Claude kept saying it in his sleep and I looked it up. You should hear the stuff he says in his dreams, I could write a book on the stupid shit that comes out of his mouth."

"You are a terrible friend, Philip," Claude replied with a shake of his head. "Truly terrible."

"Considering I just ordered four large pizzas for us all, I'd take that back if I were you," Phil replied easily.

"I take it back," Claude said with a smile. "You're a terrible friend with good taste."

 

ii.

Claude was 100 miles into his trek across Pennsylvania when the music he was blaring loudly within the enclosed space of his SUV changed to his ring tone for his husband which he had set to baby got back two weeks into their courtship all those years ago.

Looking at the dashboard in confusion as Sid's number appeared on the screen, Claude quickly looked back at the traffic before hitting the answer button on the back of the steering wheel.

"Sid?"

"Hey," Sid responded softly. "How are you?"

"I'm okay," Claude answered carefully. "What's up? I didn't think we just called each other?"

"Claude, we live in different cities and travel for a living, just because I don't necessarily remember doesn't mean I'm stupid enough to think we didn't call each other all the time to hear the other person's voice," Sid said patronizingly which brought a smile to Claude's face.

"Okay fair."

"Also, apparently phones have this thing called a call history which has your name on it at least three times a day for as far back as I scrolled," Sid added dryly.

"I forgot how much of an asshole you can be," Claude said between chuckles, noting that his entire posture had relaxed in the thirty seconds the two had been on the phone together.

"I admit nothing," Sid countered before humming softly. "How's the drive?"

"Phil told you I take it?" Claude asked with a shake of his head, though the small smile that had graced his features at hearing his husband's voice still remained.

"Geno actually. But Phil was the one who texted to tell me when you left. I was at the doctor's or I would have called sooner."

"What did the doctor say?" Claude inquired, a pang of worry pulsing through his chest.

"Concussion is completely gone, still no idea why our soul bond is gone, docs say technically I am okay to start practicing again physically, but emotionally it's probably not the best idea though it's up to me ultimately whether I feel ready to go back."

"Do you feel ready to go back?" Claude asked cautiously, more unprepared for Sid's answer than he was expecting.

"Not if you aren't going to be there," Sid replied simply.

"We play on different teams, I wasn't going to be there regardless."

"You know what I mean," Sid countered.

"Do I?" Claude replied childishly. 

"Claude, I'm married to you and I don't remember anything about our life together other than I feel safe around you. I'm more worried about getting us back than I am playing hockey."

"But you love hockey," Claude said around the lump in his throat. "Hockey is your life."

"You are my life," Sid replied seriously. "We're going to retire eventually and when we do we'll only have each other. That's more important to me than scoring some more goals and padding my stats."

"You sound so certain," Claude said uncharacteristically vulnerable. "How can you be so certain about something you don't even remember?"

"I don't need to remember to know I care for you, that part is evident every which way I look," Sid started. "I've worked for everything in my life and this ring on my left hand tells me I worked for you too. Eventually we are going to have to face the fact that I might not ever remember our life before this, which means we need to focus on our life together moving forward. Making new memories is more important to me than anything else right now."

"You're wearing your ring?" Claude asked shakily, looking down at his own ring which glinted in the sunlight where his hand gripped the steering wheel. 

"Of course I'm wearing my ring you big idiot," Sid said fondly. "Like I said, this is what I'm most concerned about.

"Your team is going to the playoffs though?" Claude said deflecting. "Don't you want to be there to help them go all the way?"

"Pretty sure they'll put my name on the cup regardless if I go back or not," Sid said sardonically. "Don't ever google yourself, what a stupid decision that was."

"Did you somehow not realize that people seem to think your shit is made out of gold?" Claude asked with a snort, shaking his head ruefully at the thought.

"I play hockey. You'd think I was the second coming of Jesus with some of the shit I read."

"Your ass is too big to be Jesus," Claude countered with a small laugh. "Also, have you found the fanfiction yet? There's some kinky shit on there."

"Please tell me you don't read fanfiction about me," Sid said with an exaggerated groan which brought another snicker from Claude's lips.

"Shit's better than porn babe, I'm telling you," Claude said with another laugh. "And anyways, someone's gotta take you down a notch every once in awhile."

"Why do I have a feeling 'every once in awhile' translates loosely to several times daily?" Sid pondered out loud, already knowing the answer since he had seen Claude's Twitter feed which was admittedly quite amusing.

"I admit nothing."

"Yeah, yeah," Sid said with a huff. "You're a terrible husband you ass."

Claude chuckled before lapsing into silence as he shoulder checked to move around a slow moving van in the right lane in front of him.

"You know technically I already retired," Claude hummed to himself, the words slipping out before he could put too much thought into his decision.

"Bullshit," Sid replied frankly. "I don't mind you taking the rest of the season off since even I the hockey robot can admit that the last few weeks have been stressful, but you're 29, there's no way you are retiring when you have so much more great hockey to play."

"And why is that your decision to make?" Claude asked, his hackles rising unintentionally.

"It's not, it's our decision to make and if you don't go back to play hockey then there's no way that I go back to play. I wasn't kidding when I said I wanted you there with me."

"That sounds awfully conspiratorial," Claude said with a grimace. "I take it you've been speaking to Phil?"

"It doesn't matter what Phil thinks, it matters what you and I think and I think that I don't like the sounds of playing hockey without you."

"You don't even remember playing hockey with me," Claude responded sadly, the lump reforming in his throat as he felt the usual feeling of pain and regret wash over him.

"Like I said, new memories," Sid retorted. "And I don't want any new memories if you aren't there to make the new memories with."

"You sound so certain," Claude repeated, albeit stronger this time.

"You already said that, that was so five minutes ago," Sid replied sassily to the amusement of Claude.

"Yeah, yeah," Claude hummed. "Oh god, we really do sound like an old married couple don't we?"

"Not the worst thing in the world," Sid said with a smile. "Though I do wish you'd come play for the penguins."

"I'd rather chop off my left testicle," Claude bit out before being able to stop himself, his brows raising as he waited for Sid to reply.

"That seems mildly aggressive," Sid countered eventually, though the breathlessness of his voice made Claude think he might have been trying to contain his laughter on the other end of the phone.

"Why don't you come play for the Flyers then?" Claude asked forcefully.

"Orange isn't really my colour," Sid replied easily.

"You're so full of shit," Claude said with a loud punctuated laugh. "At least take me for another date first before we talk about hockey, yeah?"

"Wow, such a diva," Sid said teasingly. "Playing hard to get are we?"

"You love when I play hard to get."

"I'll take your word for it," Sid hummed. "Decide what you are going to say to the flyers yet?"

Claude sighed loudly, staring out the windshield desolately as he tried to compose his thoughts.

"I'm really not sure how it's going to go," Claude started honestly. "I'm not sure if it would be better if I begged and grovelled for their forgiveness or punched one of them again."

"Didn't you sprain your wrist last time you punched someone?" Sid pointed out knowingly.

"Fucking Phil," Claude muttered under his breath. "Can't a guy have a secret or two around here?"

"What's the fun in that?" Sid asked. "Also, you're deflecting."

"Eh," Claude whined. "I have a lot of feelings about this whole thing. I abandoned the team right when they needed me most. I'm not sure how forgiving I would be if the positions were reversed."

"You'd probably give them shit for a little bit, but you know you'd forgive them eventually. That's what teammates do, they hold each other accountable but at the end of the day they have each other's backs. I don't think you can expect it to be easy, but it's the right thing to do going there and apologizing."

"Yeah," Claude replied softly. "Yeah I think your right."

"That must be a first, you admitting I'm right," Sid noted with some amusement, hoping to pull his partner out of his thoughts.

"Don't get used to it," Claude retorted, though he said it gently so Sid would know he wasn't being serious.

"Claude, I know this has to be tough for you, but you can't spend the next few hours playing out all the different scenarios in your head," Sid said softly. "You just need to go there and talk to them like you would have any other day before a game or during an intermission. Even if they are angry at you, they'll listen. And if they don't forgive you right away that's okay, you might have to work at it a little bit, but as you said, you did walk away from them. You are doing the right thing here, even if it sucks."

"Wow," Claude said shakily, looking out at his surroundings before continuing. "I really think I needed to hear that."

"I know," Sid said softly once more. "But instead of thinking about it for the next few hours, why don't you tell me about something stupid Phil's done recently, there must be something."

"Oh my god, I have so many stories for you about that asshole. Do you know what he called me the other night??"

 

iii.

Claude sat in his vehicle staring up at the Wells Fargo Center for what felt like an eternity before he was able to convince himself to turn the SUV off and climb out.

The walk felt familiar as Claude trailed away from his favourite parking spot which had miraculously been left empty despite the fact that for years and years the captain of the team had always been graced with the closest stall to the entrance doors. Looking around Claude saw that Wayne's truck was where it always was on game days, parked against the side of the building, three cars down from the door and three cars away from the exit.

A wave of nostalgia washed over Claude as he registered this fact, a feeling of sadness taking hold on his chest as he realized that Wayne probably hadn't taken the captain's spot because he was waiting for his captain, for him, to come back.

"Claude?" a surprised voice called out and Claude pulled himself from his thoughts as he came face-to-face with Ron Hextall who was walking towards him with a concerned expression on his face. "Is that really you?"

"Hi Ron," Claude said sheepishly, fiddling with his keys before holding his hand out for a handshake, surprised when the older man instead pulled him into a crushing embrace unlike anything the two had shared before.

"It's good to see you son," Ron said as he pulled back, placing a firm grip on Claude's shoulder. 

"It's good to see you too, Ron," Claude responded genuinely, letting himself relax as he stared into his boss' eyes.

"I can't say I'm not surprised to see you here though, G. When you left I was under the impression that you had no intention of ever coming back."

"I don't think I did either, sir," Claude replied honestly. "But some people in my life suggested that running away from my problems wasn't going to make them better and I'd have to agree, even if it took me a few weeks to realize it."

"That Sid's a handful isn't it?" Ron asked knowingly and Claude nodded as a smile spread across his face.

"No memory and still a giant pain in my ass," Claude laughed to the amusement of Ron who raised his eyebrows as he would have if he found any of his players making possibly lewd comments. "Not like that Ron!! I just mean, he's...."

"He's Sid," Ron filled in helpfully, patting Claude on the shoulder once more before pulling away. "Don't say anything more, I completely understand. Your husband is an incredible player and he makes you happy, but he's still Sidney Crosby whether you like it or not."

"Definitely or not," Claude countered, falling into step with Ron as they walked towards the nearest set of doors.

"Does anyone know you are coming?" Ron asked, chancing a look over at the other man and sizing him up as they continued to walk, noticing how thin the young star looked and how pale his already pale skin had gotten.

"Um..." Claude stammered, looking at Ron out of the corner of his eye. "No?"

"Ah," Ron hummed out loud. "Explains that phone call I got earlier."

"Phone call sir?"

"One Mr. Philip Kessel called me this morning and asked me to organize a team meeting at around noon and said the reason would become clear around that time. I thought he was off his rocker honestly, but he was quite persuasive. As it's currently 11:47 I now see what he meant."

"Fucking Phil," Claude muttered under his breath in exasperation, though internally he appreciated the gesture more than he was willing to admit. "I guess it would make it easier if they were all in the same place at the same time."

"Figure out what you want to say to them yet?"

"No," Claude sighed. "I'm not sure whether I should grovel on my knees or punch one of them again."

A surprised bark of laughter slipped through Ron's lips and he turned to look at Claude in amusement though Claude could see the lecture coming from a mile away even before it started.

"Well, as general manager I would certainly prefer if you didn't punch our interim captain, but I certainly won't stop you if that's what you decide to do. With that said though, Claude, I want to stress to you the impact your absence has left on the team."

"Sir, I never me-" Claude started, breath catching as Ron held up his hand to stop the flow of words from exiting Claude's mouth.

"Claude, you did what you had to do to take care of your husband and of yourself. I completely understand why you stepped down from the team and I will not hold that against you moving forward. But you have to know that this team was held together by your leadership in the room and your leadership on the ice and by your camaraderie with all of our players and coaching staff here. It hasn't been the same without you around and I know the players have felt your absence. Did you know that they hang your jersey up every game, home or away?"

"It had come to my attention," Claude replied quietly, his heart a churning of emotions.

"You are very loved within that room," Ron supplied, noting how Claude refused to look him in the eye. "Now I'm not saying it's going to be easy or that they'll all come around right away, but those men in there are your family and family isn't always easy. Just remember that if it doesn't completely go your way in there, okay?"

"Yes sir," Claude replied dutifully as the two stopped just outside the locker room doors, having made the trek quickly upon entering the building. "But I'm really not sure what I'm supposed to say."

"I might start with hello and I'm sorry," Ron replied cheekily, patting Claude on the shoulder for the third time that morning. "Just go with it son, like I said, your family is waiting for you in there. Do what you have to do."

"Except punch the captain," Claude replied before thinking, lips turning up at the breathy laughter of the older man as he tried to keep himself composed.

"Might hurt to punch yourself son. Now go in there, it is a game day after all."

"Thank you sir, truly," Claude said genuinely, reaching his hand out and clasping the other man's hand in both of his. "Thank you."

"Welcome back Claude," Ron said with another knowing look, dropping his hand and turning to walk down the hall towards the executive offices. "Next season is coming sooner than you think!"

"Why does everyone seem to think I am coming back next season?" Claude muttered to himself, bracing himself and pulling himself up to his full height as he stared nervously at the black door in front of him, reaching out after ten long seconds and jiggling the handle, half hoping that the door would be locked.

As the handle gave under his hand and the door began to swing outwards, Claude took one deep breath before stepping over the threshold and into the home team dressing room, his entrance going unnoticed by everyone except TK who looked up with bright eyes and who let his jaw drop upon seeing the other man before shouting out and drawing the attention of everyone in the room.

"Claude!"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1) From the bottom of my heart I want to say thank you to each and every one of you who have commented, left kudos or taken the time to read my story. When I posted that last chapter I was completely undecided on what I wanted to do moving forward but the overwhelming amount of support has encouraged me to keep going and see this story to fruition. I started this story for me, but I will be finishing it for you guys. Thank you, thank you, thank you to all of you!
> 
> 2) 26 comments on one chapter??? You are all insane and I love you guys. I feel very loved, thanks everyone! xo
> 
> 3) I know very little about the Flyers so I am not entirely sure I am going to write what happens when Claude walks in the room unless people really want to see it. I had thought about doing it in this chapter, but this guy is already almost at 5K words, so I decided to let it go. I have no problem writing it in, but tell me what you want to see and I'll make sure it happens.
> 
> 4) I hope you enjoyed this chapter since I know it's been a long time since I last posted. Never expected to be a once a month poster, my bad everyone, being a grown up is hard!! Probably going to start wrapping this story up in the next few chapters here though and I think this was a great place to start.
> 
> 5) Comments and kudos are always welcome, but thank you again from the bottom of my heart for all of the support. As the chapter title says: Onwards and Upwards!


	9. Starting Over

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Update: Not dead, just really terrible at updating.

i. 

Claude tried to keep his breathing under control as he watched the assortment of reactions spreading throughout the room at his unexpected entrance. 

Beside him, both goalies were staring at him resolutely, faces expressionless, while the third, Mason, had his injured leg spread out in the front of him as he perched on the edge of Neuvirth's stall. The latter at least had the decency to look mildly surprised at Claude's appearance before dropping his eyes to the carpet under his feet, expression turning forlorn which Claude told himself to revisit later.

Across from him, TK and Schenn had their heads together between their stalls, gesturing wildly as they spoke between themselves, casting furtive looks up at Claude before turning their attention back to the other, voices raising and falling as they discussed something intensely, drawing attention from Weise and Cousins who were split between staring in shock at Claude and hopelessly trying to listen in to the conversation around them.

Claude failed to register any other expressions however, as his eyes locked on Wayne's who was staring at him tentatively from where he was standing in the centre of the room, his left hand balled in a fist by his side while his right hand held the hockey stick he had been leaning on before Claude had walked in tightly, knuckles white from the sustained pressure. The room slowly slipped into silence as the two men continued to stare at each other until finally it was so quiet that all Claude could hear was the shaky inhale and exhale of air from his lungs.

The longer Claude stared at his former friend, analyzing him from head to toe while he had the chance, the more Claude realized that Wayne looked terrible. His dark skin looked worn and haggard and thick bags stuck prominently from his cheeks as he looked to Claude as if he had lost a significant amount of weight. A yellow tinge circled his left eye from where Claude's fist had connected at the hospital and his lip was split and bound together with what appeared to be six stitches based on a cursory glance. His workout shirt, which normally clung to Wayne's body like a glove and highlighted his toned abs, was drifting lazily around the other man's body as he shifted his weight from foot-to-foot, the movement so imperceptible that if it hadn't been for the fact that Claude was looking for it he probably wouldn't have noticed.

"Erm, hi?" Claude offered, cringing at the terrible opening. "Do I bother asking you how you guys are doing?"

"We've been better," Del Zotto offered after a moment when no one else spoke up, his eyes like blades of steel. "Though I didn't think that mattered to you much anymore."

Claude visibly winced as he was hit with the glancing blow, doing his best to brush off the comment, though he had to admit that his friend was right though it did nothing to help make the implication hurt less.

"That's fair," Claude conceded after a few tense seconds, dropping his gaze down to his shoes and wondering absently what colour they were. "Yeah, that's fair."

"Is that all you have to say?" Wayne demanded, his voice gruff as he straightened his back, his posture going more on guard than when Claude had first walked in. "Don't show up for a month, don't answer any of our calls or messages and then walk back in here expecting that we'll somehow all run back into the arms of our faithless leader?"

"Faithless maybe," Claude said with a pitying laugh, taking the added second the noise provided him to strategically plan his next words. "And no actually. I'm honestly a bit surprised you haven't kicked me out yet. I was half convinced Ron wasn't going to let me into the building."

"So you've seen him then?" Raffl asked from Claude's right, the latter turning to give the man a half smile which was not returned before focusing his attention awkwardly back on Wayne in the middle.

"Just by chance. Phil called and told him I was coming apparently, though knowing Ron he probably wanted to be around in case Wayne here decides to beat my face in."

"Don't tempt me," Wayne said mercilessly. "And don't talk about that asshole in this room."

"I'd let you," Claude answered honestly, not hesitating for even a second before he said it. "God knows I deserve a lot worse than that. And if it weren't for Phil I probably wouldn't be here, so watch what you say."

"What, he put your diaper on you and drive you over from Pittsburgh?" Wayne asked ruthlessly, his anger radiating from him in waves.

"No," Claude replied simply, knowing that it would be pointless to let his own anger come out in return, though it bubbled under the surface. "But he did stop me from doing something stupid when I realized Sid didn't know who I was. I owe Phil for a lot of things, not just getting me here."

Claude wasn't surprised at the collective gasp that rode through the room at his admission, but he was somehow more surprised at the look that flashed across Wayne's face that he couldn't quite read before it was quickly covered back up.

"Come on Claude, you'd never hurt yourself!" TK said encouragingly from his stall, looking at him with wide eyes. "Right cap?"

Instead of answering Claude gulped audibly, looking down at his feet and refusing to make eye contact with anyone, not meaning to have made that admission though it was too late now to take it back.

"I wasn't in the best of places," Claude mumbled, sniffing loudly and staring determinedly at the Flyers logo just to the right of Wayne's feet, studying the contrast of the black on grey and remembering how shocked he was the day he realized that the grey in question was actually a very bright orange colour that was hard to look at for long periods of time. "But no, I didn't try to hurt myself. I just wasn't taking care of myself either. Phil took care of me when I needed someone who wasn't going to feel sorry for me and was going to help me get better. He did more than I can ever thank him for."

"Is it true you can't see colours?" a voice asked to his left after another moment of silence, Claude looking up to make eye contact with his fellow Frenchmen, though Pierre-Eduoard was actually from France which was beside the point currently.

"Yeah," Claude replied sadly, looking back at the logo for a few more seconds before continuing. "I lost my husband, my team and my colours in the course of a single play. Sucks."

"Unf," was all Claude heard, eyes snapping up to meet Wayne's, his eyes wide with the shock of Claude's statement, the whimper involuntarily slipping past his lips, his earlier anger all but evaporated. "I..."

"Don't need to say anything," Claude finished for him steadily, suddenly finding himself ready to voice the thoughts bouncing around inside his head. "I'm angry at you for hurting my husband, but the other stuff, the stuff that I said at the hospital..."

"It's not true," Claude carried on, tamping down the emotion that was swelling in his chest and making it difficult to breathe. "You didn't take my colours away or make Sid forget me. No one knows why it happened and we probably never will since the brain scans are showing up normal. I've just been so angry these last four weeks and I needed someone to blame. It seemed easier somehow blaming the other person involved in the play than to acknowledge that maybe what I was really upset about was being forgotten about. We all know it happens a lot."

"G..." Wayne whispered, his expression breaking though the man very steadfastly did his best to keep it from doing so.

"You can be angry at me if you want. Hell, if I were in your position I would be pissed, but you don't get to be mad at yourself any longer," Claude said before turning his attentions to the group and ensuring to make eye contact with each individual before he carried on, the strength of being back in front of HIS team making the following words easier.

"I've been a shitty ass captain to you guys over the last month, probably longer than that if we are being honest and I don't really know how to apologize for not being there when I should have been or replying to your messages so all I can do is explain."

"That first night..." Claude hesitated, steeling himself to continue before he pushed on, continuing to look around the room as he spoke. "That first night I wasn't sure if Sid was ever going to open his eyes. I had all of the worst situations running through my head, that this was going to be the worst concussion that he had ever had, that it would end his career, that he'd end up in a coma, that we'd both have to take off the rest of the season while we waited for him to heal."

"But never, NEVER in a million years would I have ever imagined when he woke up in the morning that he would be referring to himself as a shade, that he might not know who I was. I had walked out of the room to go get some coffee from the lunchroom and stretch my legs when he woke up so I didn't even get to see him and the other guys in the room wouldn't let me go back in when I came back. I kept trying to push past and they wouldn't let me and finally they told me that he was calling himself a shade and my world just...ended. Just like that, all my hopes, all my dreams, all my aspirations for my future after hockey with Sid, they just disappeared. Just like the flick of a light switch, my entire life went dark."

"I didn't start to lose my colours for a couple of days," Claude acknowledged as he saw a few people start to protest before he continued, "but the incident itself was enough of a shock that I don't honestly even remember much of the next 48 hours. I remember punching Wayne when he showed up at the hospital and I remember talking to the doctor, but I don't remember the rest of the game or how I got to the hospital. And then after the fourth day I was looking at Trina and she was telling me about the beautiful plant that had been delivered from a fan down the hall and how the flowers were just starting to blossom when I realized I couldn't see the plant itself, just the pink flowers growing out of it. Within two days I couldn't see the sun or the sky the way I used to and by day ten they were all completely gone."

"But why didn't you respond to us?" Couturier asked with a complicated expression on his face from where he sat beside's Claude stall which Claude just realized did indeed have his jersey hanging in it. "Why did you run away from us?"

Claude took a deep inhale, letting the exhale flutter over his lips as he considered how to word what he was about to say.

"Sid and I have been together for eight years now, that's almost the entirety of my hockey career. For as long as I can remember I've equated hockey with Sid and vice versa so not having Sid..."

"Means you can't have hockey either," Sean finished for him, nodding along as if he understood. "Makes sense."

"I was just so angry," Claude admitted, looking sheepishly at Simmonds. "What was I going to say when I didn't know what to say myself? I already said some pretty stupid shit to Wayne at the hospital. It's not that I just didn't want to talk to you guys, I didn't want to talk to anyone at the time. My own parents didn't realize I wasn't in Pittsburgh until Letang told them a few days ago. I was pretty content just ignoring all of my problems, it seemed easier than admitting that my life was falling apart and I was never going to play hockey again."

"So what changed?" Schenn asked, leaning back in his stall with a considering look on his face.

"Not what - who."

"Sid?"

"Who else?" Claude said with a small smile pulling at the corner of his lips.

"You've talked to him then?" Mason asked, that same sad expression still on his face.

"We went out a couple of days ago actually. We've been talking pretty consistently since then," Claude said with a genuine smile.

"Does he remember anything?" Wayne asked, catching himself as if he hadn't meant to say anything, though the expression on his face was rather hopeful all the same.

"No. Not a thing."

"Wow," a few guys said out loud with a huff, the last statement working itself through the room as Claude stood there, distantly hearing voices in the hallway and catching a look at the time as he realized that he needed to wrap things up if he wanted people to get home to take their pre-game naps before the game that night.

"Yeah," Claude said after a few seconds, carefully watching Wayne who refused to meet his gaze. "But that doesn't forgive my actions towards you guys. You are my team, my family. I let you down and I'm sorry. I hope that with time you can come to forgive me."

As Claude's words trailed off in the air around him the room grew quiet again as everyone made eye contact with each other, a silent message being shared that Claude wasn't quite sure about, though he found himself getting nervous and unconsciously reached back in case he needed to grab the door handle and make a run for it.

Movement out of the corner of his eye caught his attention and Claude turned to watch as Del Zotto stood up from his stall and walked towards him, expressionless in his appearance as he neared his captain, slowing to a halt when he was less than a foot away from him.

"You're an asshole Claude," he started, "but you are still my captain and my friend. Welcome home," Del Zotto said sternly, in a manner which would have made Claude feel like he was being scolded if it wasn't for the utter relief that was washing over him in waves, a surprised bark of laughter slipping past his lips before he found his arms full of Canadian.

"Thanks Z, happy to be here," Claude said with feeling.

Turning to his left, Claude introduced himself to the rookie goalie who had been called up to replace Mason after his injury, exchanging a few short words before Claude carried on, embracing Neuvirth and Mason in turn, speaking to each of them individually before being caught up in the embrace of Ghost who looked at Claude with a smile full of warmth which did wonders for helping Claude settle down to carry on around the room.

It wasn't until Claude passed his own stall that he came to an abrupt halt, finally making eye contact with Voracek who Claude could physically feel radiating anger. The greeting he had been about to share died on his lips as he stared at his once best friend, realizing his mistake when he didn't immediately acknowledge the other man when he first walked in, the hurt apparent on the other ginger's face. Stammering for something to say, Claude came up empty just as Voracek stood up, striding past him and straight out of the room, the door slamming against the wall as he threw it open.

A few terse seconds passed before Claude turned to Couturier on the other side, doing his best to smile and break the tension. 

"Well, 22 out of 24 isn't bad?" he offered to the man, ignoring the pain at Voracek's departure, turning to look at Wayne once more with an acknowledging nod in hopes he had caught what he had just said.

"Twenty-two and a half," Wayne responded tertly, turning and following Jakub out of the door, but not before his own small smile graced his features.

"I can handle that," Claude said with a half-laugh, turning back to Sean, the smile remaining on his face. "I can definitely handle that."

 

ii.

Half an hour later, Claude stepped out into the parking lot and pulled his phone out of his back pocket, smiling at the messages of worry from Sid which were spread out over his screen, messages from several of the Pens and even more of the Flyers smiling up at him as he walked towards his car.

Swiping the screen open, Claude bypassed the several red notifications, instead pulling open the phone app and dialing Sid's number, enjoying the feeling of typing each individual digit, despite the fact Sid was number one in his favourites list.

The phone only rang once before Sid was answering in a hurry and a smile spread across Claude's face as he realized that his husband had been waiting by the phone for him.

"Hey JLo," Claude greeted warmly, laughing at the confused noise he heard over the line in response.

"...but it's Sid?" The other man responded in more confusion, only causing Claude's own laughter to grow.

"Babe, google Jennifer Lopez right now and go to photos and then get back to me on this," Claude replied with a chuckle, waiting patiently for the fifteen seconds it took for Sid to complete the task before he was reacting to the name.

"My ass is not that large okay?!" Sid shouted down the phone, his exasperation clear in his tone.

"Yeah, yeah," Claude laughed between the almost tears, enjoying Sid's reaction despite the fact he had been saying the same thing for years. "You don't like big butts and you cannot lie."

"Why are you such an ass man?" Sid asked with a shake of his head, smiling at his phone and happy to hear his husband's laughter. 

"I'm a YOU man," Claude retorted. "The exceptional ass is just a very fantastic bonus."

"Wow, what a charmer, " Sid said sardonically, standing and turning to look at said butt in the bathroom mirror behind the couch, the door slightly ajar from when he had been pacing earlier and had needed something to distract himself with.

"You married me," Claude pointed out.

"I wish I remembered that," Sid responded sadly, his tone turning longing, though he hadn't meant to turn the conversation in that direction.

"It's okay mon amie, we'll get there," Claude replied encouragingly, wishing more than anything that he could be there right now, but equally glad he was where he was.

Leaning against his vehicle as he continued to talk to Sid, his entire focus on the man on the other end of the line, Claude missed as Wayne, Jakub and Steve walked out of the parking lot doors, seeing him standing there and slowly walking over as they caught the tail end of the conversation.

"It didn't go as well as I thought, but it didn't go as badly as I thought either," Claude said down the line as the three men neared. "Mason has this really awful look on his face, I can't tell if he looks sad because of what I did or sad because of something else, it just...that's my team Sid."

"No," Claude continued a few seconds later after Sid's response finished coming through. "Jakub and Wayne don't want anything to do with me, but what can you expect really? First off, I mean I punched Wayne so that's one part of it, but...I just...I thought after you got hurt that I would never play again and - don't interrupt me Sidney. I thought after you got hurt that I was never going to play again and how was I going to say that to my best friends? If I don't have you then I don't have hockey and the only reason I know them is because of hockey. I know that we are friends more than just because of hockey, I just feel like I am letting them down."

"I don't know," Claude replied sadly a moment later. "I'm not sure they'd hear me out, even if I tried. I'd probably be pretty mad too if I were them. I mean, most of the team seemed pretty happy to see me, so I guess that means I might be able to come back down to visit. Maybe I should give them some space and then try again in a few days?"

"Or you could just talk to us now?" Wayne called out, causing Claude to jump in surprise, almost dropping his phone in the process.

"Hey Sid?" Claude called down the line, eyes wide as he stared at the three men in front of him. "I gotta go, can I call you back?"

"Okay, um, lo- I, uh. Yeah, okay, I'll uh, talk to you later. Okay, you too. Bye."

"Mmm," Claude grunted, covering his mouth with his fist as he grunted out a response, awkwardly slipping his phone into his back pocket and shifting from side-to-side as he wanted for someone to say something. "Hey guys."

"Did you have an idea of what you wanted to say?" Jakub said coldly, "Since you apparently had something you wanted to say to us."

"I...um, yeah. I guess, I guess I do," Claude stammered, trying to buy himself time. "Here? Now?"

"Well considering you are planning on leaving again is there going to be a better time? Jakub asked. "Not sure when we'll hear from you again after you leave."

Claude winced at the comment, but he figured it was fair at the same time so he tried to do his best to not let them see how much that comment had hurt. He knew he was justified for leaving, but he also knew he had handled the entire situation very poorly so his friends were justified in their reactions too. 

"I know I am letting you guys down by leaving. But the reality of the situation is still that Sid is hurt and recovering from a traumatic event. No matter how much I love you guys and want to be here for you, I need to be there more. I'm glad I came to say sorry in person, but the other part of me wishes I had never left. What if something happens while I am here? It's a long drive, I wouldn't be able to get there in time and then what if he forgot me again and we had to restart or he fell and got hurt again, I mean, he's really weak right now and he kind of needs someone around him at all times and I'm here so I am not doing that and he sounds okay on the phone, but what if he-"

"Claude!" Wayne shouted, stepping forward and placing both of his hands on the smaller man's shoulders, steadying him as he recognized the symptoms of a panic attack coming on, something Claude got very rarely, but often enough that Wayne knew how to handle them. "Breathe Claude, Sid is okay. Just breathe."

"Sorry," Claude whispered after taking a few shaky breaths, breathing in deeply as he tried to calm his heart rate and get some air into his lungs for more than a few brief seconds. "Sorry, I get a little irrational when it comes to Sid."

"We know," all three men said in unison, the collective words causing a surprised choke of laughter to slip out of Claude's lips.

"Okay, okay, I may have mentioned him once or twice," Claude said with a soft smile, sniffing loudly and looking up for the first time and making eye contact with Jakub who still looked angry, but the worry lines creased in his forehead gave Claude enough encouragement that his friend wasn't angry enough at him to not care anymore which he didn't realize he had needed to see until this exact moment.

"Do you guys maybe want to go for lunch?" Claude suggested, just as Mason's belly gurgled loudly. "I feel like this conversation might take awhile."

"You're paying right?" Wayne asked, though the way he said it implied that it was rather non-negotiable.

"Yeah," Claude said with a laugh. "I can do that."

"Well then, lead the way captain," Wayne replied.

"Not captain anymore, Wayne, that's all you. I'm just a faded who wants to take his old friends for lunch and say sorry."

"You'll always be our captain, Claude" Wayne responded honestly. "Really looking forward to getting my 'A' back. And taking Jake's away, he's exhausting as an alternate."

"Am not," Jakub responded gruffly, walking around Mason and opening up the passenger door of Claude's vehicle which he knew would be opened because Claude was notorious for leaving it unlocked and motioning for Mason to waddle over and climb inside. "And just so you know, I'm ordering the lobster."

 

iii.

It was just after two in the morning when Sid heard a knock on the front door, blinking groggily and sitting up from where he fell asleep on the couch, standing to see a silhouette at the front door and smiling when he realized who it was.

"Don't you have a key?" Sid asked in greeting when he pulled the door open, brows furrowing when he looked at Claude who looked dead on his feet in front of him.

"I wasn't sure if it was going to freak you out if I just walked in," Claude said quietly, eyes blinking heavily. "I debated about going back to Phil's, but I wanted to see you first."

"You're ridiculous," Sid said fondly, shaking his head at the other man and grabbing him by the wrist as he tugged him into the house. "This is your house as much as it's mine. Thank you for checking, but next time just come in, you live here too...don't you?"

"When I am in town and when we are on breaks, yeah," Claude responded, leaning against the wall as he undid his laces and pulled his shoes from his feet, lazily passing them to Sid who dropped them on the top of the shoe rack to his right. "Otherwise I live in an apartment in Philly or in our house on the lake."

"Wait, I have a house on the lake?" Sid asked in surprise. "What are the chances it's Mr. Rogers old house, the one he was thinking of selling when I was just getting into the league?"

"The very one," Claude said with a small laugh. "Remembers that and Harry Potter, but not his husband, what a dick."

"I'm sorry," Sid whined, though he did his best not to take it personally since he could tell how exhausted Claude was after having driven to and from Philly in one day. "How was the game?"

"Good, we won," Claude said with his eyes shut as he continued to lean against the wall. "Neuvirth got a shut out and six different Flyers scored, it was awesome."

"Isn't that the first game that the Flyers have won in like three weeks?" Sid asked tentatively, though he already knew the answer because he (regrettably) watched the game on his phone earlier, enjoying the standing ovation the crowd had given his husband when they had shown him on the big screen in the owners box.

"Yeah," Claude replied with a sigh. "Wait, how do you know that when I didn't even know that?"

"I did some researching on you after I realized we were married," Sid said sheepishly.

"Did you check out the fanfiction like I told you to?" Claude asked, opening his eyes so he could smile at his husband who was turning a frightening shade of red. "Oh my god, you did, didn't you?"

"I didn't even know there were that many different positions to try," Sid admitted, much to the amusement of his partner who was bent over as his body shook with laughter.

"Oh my god Sid, that's because you refuse to let me bring toys into the bedroom! We could have so much more fun than we do and that's from a guy who fucking loves the sex that we have!"

"I'm just saying," Sid muttered. "There was a good story I read about soulmates though, it was by someone named CrazyJ, it was good, I liked it. No sex either."

"You love sex," Claude pointed out, sticking his tongue into his cheek and laughing when Sid shot him a disapproving look.

"Yes, but I'd rather be the one actually participating in it, not reading about how other people think I should have sex."

"Find any tips?" Claude asked, only partially hopeful since he knew it would be a long time before he and Sid got back to that point if they ever did. 

"I don't want to talk about it."

"Ha!" Claude said with a laugh, pushing off of the wall and walking towards the kitchen, Sid trailing after him like a loyal puppy. "That's for another day though. For now I just want to make up the guest room and go the heck to sleep."

"Actually," Claude said after a short pause. "That's assuming you are okay if I stay here tonight?"

"Only if you stay with me," Sid responded, cheeks colouring again at his words. 

"Wait...you want me to sleep in the same bed as you?" Claude asked in surprise, looking a bit taken aback by the comment. "Really?"

"You say that as if we've never slept in the same before?" Sid asked, though to be fair he didn't actually know the answer to that question.

"Of course we have, but never that you remember. I figured you wouldn't be comfortable sleeping in the same bed as me since you don't even remember me."

"Well you sleeping in the guest room isn't going to help me remember," Sid said stubbornly, sensing that there was something going on under the surface that he wanted to address. "And that bed is huge, it's weird sleeping in it with just one person."

"I told you!" Claude replied with a shake of his head, reaching into the fridge and grabbing two bottles of water for the each of them. "But no, of course we have to get the biggest bed in the place despite the fact we don't even take up any room on it. You should have listened to me about this Sidney!"

"How many times have we had this conversation?" Sid asked with a laugh as he followed Claude up the stairs, turning to the left when they got to the top and walking towards the master's bedroom. 

"I don't want to talk about it," Claude retorted, turning to look at Sid over his shoulder before entering the room, walking to the left side of the admittedly monstrous bed and placing his water down before sliding his watch off his wrist and placing his phone on the nightstand before extracting a cord from the lamp and putting it on charge which Sid didn't realize was there, walking to the other side and touching the base of the lamp until he found the aforementioned cord and plugging his own phone in, placing it face down on the hard wood and turning to look at Claude who was watching him with a soft expression.

"We only got those lamps half a year ago, I wouldn't be worried that you didn't realize they could charge your phone, Claude said gently. "They also change colours based on how you are feeling and the weather outside and you can control them with the remote that controls the rest of the lights in this room."

"Wait, there's a remote" Sid asked, pulling open the drawers and rifling through, though all that was in them were some worn books and a few bottles of lube.

"My side," Claude said with a flourish as he held the remote up. "I put it there the morning of the game."

"Morning," Sid pushed, cutting Claude off from continuing. "We can talk about that in the morning, for now let's just get ready for bed, you look like you need the sleep."

"Yes mother," Claude retorted with a laugh, pulling his shirt over his head and fumbling with his belt as he tried to get his pants off, Sid finally taking pity on the man and walking around the bed, reaching out and swatting his partner's hands out of the way so he could smoothly unbuckle it and slip it off from around Claude's waist, unbuttoning the top of his jeans in one quick motion too, stepping back slightly so he could give Claude room to push them down, though the latter was staring up at him with wide grey eyes.

"T-t-thank you," Claude stammered, pushing the top of his pants so they slid down his thighs, placing his hand on the bed to steady himself as he pulled them off with his feet, pulling his socks off with it leaving him standing completely exposed in front of Sidney who was eyeing him appreciatively.

"I see why I married you," Sid tried to chirp, though his cheeks were still bright red which is how Claude knew he was embarrassed.

"That may be the nicest thing you've ever said to me Sidney," he replied cheekily, turning away and pulling down the covers of the bed, climbing on and turning back to Sid who was still standing in place with a smile gracing his features.

"Sid," Claude called, getting Sid's attention and patting the bed on his left side. "Are you going to join me or are you just going to stand there thinking about my rocking hot body."

"Shut up," Sid said with a laugh, shucking his sweats and his shirt, walking around to the other side of the bed, climbing into the bed so he was lying down with a good foot and a half of space between the other man, lying on his back staring at the ceiling as the two of them settled in, both men clasping their hands on their chest in indentical positions.

"This isn't how we sleep, is it?" Sid asked after another sixty seconds had passed, an overwhelming feeling telling him that something here wasn't quite right.

"No," Claude said with a laugh, "but that's okay."

"Why?" Sid asked in confusion, turning to look at Claude who was looking at him with a soft expression on his face.

"Because normally we sleep naked and I sleep against your chest since you prefer to sleep on your back and I prefer to sleep on my stomach. But that's okay, I'm just happy to be here with you."

Sid turned to look back up at the ceiling, deliberating for a few long moments as he considered everything he had heard about the man in the bed beside him, the way he could tell he made him happy based on the photos around the house, their wedding video, heck, even their text messages exchanged before the accident. Making his mind up, Sid lifted his butt off the bed as he pulled down his briefs, barely catching the gasp of shock from Claude as he grunted with the effort, pulling them out from under the covers and tossing them in the direction of the hamper at the end of the bed.

"Your turn," he said simply, looking back over at Claude who had a complicated expression on his face. 

"You sure?" Claude asked one more time, smiling when Sid nodded and doing the same, throwing his grey boxers across the room, landing exactly on top of Sid's which he noted with a smile, the two of them always doing things together from the very beginning.

"Better?" Sid questioned, his face hopeful as he awaited the answer.

"Almost," Claude responded, scooching over in the bed until his head was placed against Sid's chest, the latter's arm coming up in time to drape along his husband's back, interlinking his fingers from his other hand as he pulled Cluade closer, the younger man who was currently taking deep shaky breaths into Sid's chest.

"Welcome home," Sid whispered, though he wasn't sure why he had said it other than it had seemed the right thing to say.

"I love you Sid," Claude whispered, a tear dropping onto Sid's chest as he became overcame with emotion, having missed Sid's embrace more than he had realized.

"I look forward to loving you back too," Sid whispered back. "Eight years and counting."

"Eight years and counting."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1) Hello? Hellooooo? Anyone there? Honestly, wouldn't be all that surprised, I can't believe how long it's been since I last updated this story, sorry to let you guys down.
> 
> 2) Since I last updated this story I got a partner, got accepted into graduate school, moved to a different part of Canada, moved in with my partner who luckily came with me because he's great and I love him and now instead of writing my final papers I am updating this. #priorities
> 
> 3) I really deliberated for a long time whether I was going to write the Wayne/Jakub/Claude make up scene, but going back through all of your comments the other day the big thing that stood out to me was that everyone wanted things to start getting easier and better and I felt that, that specific conversation was going to be complicated and emotional so I decided to leave it out and just sort of suggest that it ended up positively, especially since Claude decides to stay and watch the game. Hopefully you are okay with that decision!
> 
> 4) The title of this chapter is pretty indicative of where I want this story to go. If I ever find the motivation again to keep writing then there are probably only two chapters and an epilogue left to go and then I will officially wrap this story up more than a year after I started it. Yeesh!
> 
> 5) If anyone is still reading this, thank you so much for your continued support. Grad school is it's own beast and I've been feeling a bit discouraged lately, but reading back through the comments was really motivating and gave me the kick in the ass that I needed to keep going. Thank you to all of the comments and kudos and love and as always, come say hi at hobrerek.tumblr.com and tell me what you thought! All my love, J xo


	10. Moving Forward

i.

Sid woke up with a heavy weight across his chest, a smile pulling at the corner of his lips when he looked down and saw the man snoring softly against him, Claude's thick thigh thrown over top of his own and his arm lying very close to Sid's groin which he belatedly realized seemed so commonplace he had never even considered being bothered by it.

Turning his head to find the clock on the wall in the bathroom, Sid noticed it was almost noon which surprised him considering he hadn't slept past eight since he had woken up from the accident. Shifting his gaze back to Claude, Sid's gaze softened as he considered how far they had come in the last few weeks.

Sid didn't consider himself to be very much of a people's person which was something anyone close to him knew intimately. He ran a hockey school, did enough charitable activities to make a difference in the community, went to team dinners for the sake of team bonding, but if it were up to him (which it was to a point) he wouldn't do any of that and would stay home with a good book and a warm tea instead.

Sid knew he was different. Particular. Peculiar even. He knew his parents had struggled at times with him when he was growing up, not understanding his dedication to his schooling and to his hockey, begging him at times not to make them take him back to the rink for the third time that day. By the time he was ten he had figured out the transit system well enough that he felt comfortable going on his own and when he couldn't or the weather wouldn't permit for it he'd call his coach and see if he could get to the rink that way.

That also meant that if his own parents didn't always understand him then the other kids in his school and on his teams definitely didn't understand him. Growing up Sid never expected to make any friends when he started a new grade because no one wanted to risk being stuck with only one friend and that one friend being him.

People would make fun of his large teeth and his crooked smile, for his big behind which even before his teen years was already something people used to talk about in the halls and in gym class. They'd make cruel remarks when he won awards for being top of the class, declaring it was because he had no one to spend time with outside of school and therefore he had nothing better to do other than to study. It wasn't like they were wrong per se, but it hurt to hear nonetheless.

It didn't help that Sid actively avoided spending time with women. He didn't understand them with their clothes and their hair and their high-pitched fairy laughs. Didn't understand the attraction to two lumps of fat on a person's chest or the "softness" of a women's body that he always heard his classmates discussing in the locker room. 

Sid was interested in the curves of a man's hips, the V that dipped below their board shorts, the lines across their abdomen representing strength and determination. Sid was drawn to the calloused hands and the chapped lips that he so desperately wanted to kiss away the pain of. Sid daydreamed about running his lips across the short stubble on a potential partner's face, run his hands through the short rough hair atop their head. Anything other was something Sid was not interested in and those that had guessed his feelings about the topic were therefore not interested in him. It meant Sid was always alone.

Sid heard the chuckle fall from Claude's lips at the same time he realized his thoughts has gotten a little 'too' in-depth, a deep blush working its way up his neck and across his cheekbones as he willed himself to think about ANYTHING other than the warm, handsome man whose hand was mere inches from his hardening member.

Claude, the asshole that he was, was laughing outright now, though he at least had the courtesy to move his hand higher up Sid's body to his chest. Reaching up, Sid linked their hands together above his heart, closing his eyes as he tried to envision his grandmother or Sully after a bad game to calm himself down which took much longer for things to settle down than Sid frankly felt comfortable with. Within a minute though, Claude's laughs had settled down and Sid's cheeks had started to return to their previous shade of pink, the only thing that could be heard in the room were their breaths intermingling and the steady beat of Sid's heart underneath their hands.

"Do you think we will be okay?" Sid wondered aloud after a few minutes of companionable silence had passed, shifting himself so he could peer down at Claude who had his face pressed against his shoulder. Seeing the brief look of fear that flashed through Claude's eyes at the question, Sid reached out to steady him, wrapping his right arm around his shoulder, gently running his thumb down his cheek and across his chin, repeating the motion until the felt the sudden tension that had entered the other man's body lessen, continuing until Claude's body had softened into his side. 

"I don't think we won't be okay to clarify," Sid started, continuing his ministrations. "It just all feels so..."

"Right?" Claude offered after a moment, peering up at Sid through his eyelashes, his voice muffled from where he had it resting against Sid's shoulder.

"I was going to say natural, but you aren't wrong," Sid hummed, looking up at the ceiling, dropping his arm to run the tips of his fingers across Claude's spine.

"I'd say the fact that we've gotten to this point could be a good thing," Claude said with a gulp, closing his eyes briefly before Sid looked down as he tried to subtly cross his two fingers on Sid's chest as he waited for an answer.

The two settled into another gentle silence while Claude allowed himself to just listen to the beat of Sid's heart as he laid his head back down against his chest, uncrossing his fingers and moving his hand to rest across the V of Sid's hips. While Sid's breathing was regular, Claude could hear the uptick in his heart every so often indicating that there was more on his mind than usual.

'Whatcha thinking about up there?" Claude questioned a few minutes later, shifting so that he could see Sid's face, though from this angle he could only see a quarter, the rest of his view taken up by Sid's obscenely large nostrils.

"I just..." Sid started, unconsciously tightening his grip on the other man, taking a deep, deep breath before exhaling and continuing with what was on his mind. "I was just thinking that even after all this time, I still don't remember anything and it sucks..."

"But?" Claude pushed, hearing in his partner's voice that there was more to what he was saying.

"It's not like I don't want to remember," Sid continued after a moment, his tone shifting slightly away from the self-sacrificing tone it had taken earlier and moving into a somewhat more neutral, if not slightly positive, tone.

"I was just thinking that, even still, after four weeks, most people aren't telling me things. Like, we are all talking, but you can just sort of hear people holding back from saying things in case it upsets me that I don't remember."

"But, as we now know, I'm not going to remember this ever, so it seems silly to have all of our friends and family walking on eggshells around us. Heck, you do it and you're married to me for Christ's sake!"

"I'm not sure what I would want to happen if the roles were reverse to be fair," Claude pointed out, humming as he considered Sid's words. "So what are you saying then?"

"I'm just saying that I think it makes more sense if moving forward we all just acknowledge that I don't know things and have to be reminded of them. I mean, it's probably going to be pretty annoying for awhile, and I can't promise I won't get upset from time to time, but at the same time, there's that saying that things always get worse before they get better and I really think I'd like for things to start getting better."

"So you just want everyone to sit around and tell you about your life then?" Claude asked with a furrowed brow, trying to think of where exactly he would start explaining their history together.

"No," Sid hummed thoughtfully, trying to gather his thoughts. "More like, at lunch the other day, I was sitting down when you came in, but you kept looking over at a different table. I clued in halfway through that the table in the corner must have been 'our' table, but you never said anything. Why not?"

"Didn't want to bring up something you obviously didn't remember, I guess," Claude responded, eyebrows raising as he considered what Sid was saying. "I actually just thought it would be too much for you."

"Fair, but then not long after you admitted that we had our first date there and that they were like family and had catered our wedding. Don't you think that would have bothered me more than not knowing we had a spot together?"

A long moment of silence stretched out as Claude's brows furrowed as he considered the other man's words, going over their exchanges recently in his head and sorting them into categories of moments he had waited for Sid to figure things out himself and moments he just explained things to make it easier to see if he could find a correlation. Eventually, after parsing through his thoughts, Claude looked up to see Sid watching him with an amused expression.

"You make an unfortunately good point, I'll admit," Claude conceded. "But you still didn't answer how you'd like me to proceed with things."

"Just give me a backstory," Sid suggested, shifting slightly to give his right leg some movement as it was starting to fall asleep from where he had it tucked under Claude's weight. "Like, the lamp thing. You didn't give me a pitying look or make me feel bad for not knowing, you just told me we had only bought it six months ago and then explained some of it's features. That really helps I think."

"Really?" Claude asked in surprise, shifting so he was raised up on his left arm so he could see all of Sid's face and not just the black hole entities of his naval cavity. "That's all you mean?"

"Yes?" Sid replied in confusion, raising his left eyebrow as he waited for Claude to elaborate. "Why, is that going to be too hard for you emotionally? To be reminded that I don't know this stuff all the time?"

"Sid, unfortunately that's just what our life has become," Claude said disparagingly, though he tried to hide how much that bothered him since he was happy that Sid was opening up for a change. "I just thought you meant like sit you down and explain our entire life history together and I really just didn't know where to start."

"What, like journal it or something? Who has time for that?" Sid said with a disbelieving laugh. "Though I guess the two h-players without jobs currently probably have more time than most."

"Sid, I'll have you know that saying 'h-players' is literally no different than not saying hockey you giant buffoon," Claude laughed despite himself. "And you journal all the time just so you know, like literally you have an entire shelf of them in the office downstairs."

"Wait, those are my journals?" Sid asked in surprise, his eyes wide as he said it.

"Yes?" Claude retorted, looking at Sid with an odd expression on his face. "I'm missing something here aren't I?"

"I have abysmal handwriting" Sid said after a moment, much to the surprise of Claude who burst into laughter as he realized Sid's surprise wasn't at him having journals, but at him having bad handwriting in said journals and hoping he could blame it on Claude.

"Oh my god Sid, you are such an idiot," Claude said with a laugh and a shake of his head, pushing away from him so he could roll over and check the time. "Also, it's officially 12:01 and you don't know the rule on that yet, but I'll give you a hint: your turn to cook."

"What on earth does it being 12:01 have to do with me having to cook?" Sid asked in surprise, trying to piece the logic together with something that even remotely made some kind of sense.

"Don't ask questions Crosby, just know it's your turn to cook," Claude said with a hum, hoping Sid wouldn't see through his bullshit excuse, though he could tell by the bemused look on the other man's face that Sid was 100% aware he was lying and 100% okay with it too.

"And what exactly does us waking up late have to do with me cooking?" Sid pressed again, though his tone was light-hearted and Claude could already tell that he had won this battle despite Sid not even knowing they were having one, which was something Claude was honestly more proud of than he should be.

"We broke routine! And whoever breaks the routine has to cook, it's the rule!" Claude said empathetically, widening his eyes and nodding eagerly to make it seem believable, though he was struggling to keep the corner of his lips from turning up and giving him away.

"You are so full of shit Carrot Top, what am I making?"

"Wow, always gotta be the fucking hair colour," Claude said with a shake of his head as he rolled out of bed, standing up and reaching his arms over his head so he could do a full body stretch, popping his joints and enjoying the feeling, eyes closed so he missed the look of lust that flashed briefly across Sid's face before being covered up just as Claude opened his eyes to make eye contact. "But don't worry, I ordered food already so we don't have to cook, just wanted to see if that would work for future bargaining tactics."

"Wait, how did you order food, you just got up?"

"I mean I am ordering food," Claude said backtracking, snatching up his phone and bypassing the multitude of notifications, quickly opening up their favourite food app and browning through their most recent orders. "Do you want light or heavy?"

"Don't you think we should be eating healthily since we are, you know, professional athletes?" Sid pressed, amusement growing as Claude steadily refused to make eye contact with him, his cheeks taking on a darker hue of grey which Sid found adorable.

"I have no idea what you are talking about," Claude admitted. "And anyways, even if say, we did eat healthy at one point, you don't remember that to confirm or deny it, which means you have no way of knowing whether or not you refuse to eat takeout unless it's Sunday or exactly nine days since the end of the season, so really you have no grounds with which to speak right now."

"Claude?" Sid said with what he hoped was a serious tone and a serious face.

"Yes," Claude replied meekly, finger hovering over the checkout button as he hesitated, waiting to see what his husband had to say about the whole thing.

"Order something small, I want to save room for dinner," Sid said with a laugh as he saw the relief visibly spread itself across the other man's face, watching with happiness as Claude placed the order and then glared at Sid before turning to rummage through a drawer near the window, pulling out one pair of boxers for himself and then walking to another drawer to pull out an almost identical pair for Sid.

"Huh," Sid said with surprise, looking at the path Claude had just walked and then back at the man in question.

"What's up?" Claude asked as he unfolded the boxers and moved to step into the left leg of the material as he started to put them on.

"I never even considered to go through the drawers or the closet in here when I was trying to get clues into our life," Sid said with genuine shock. "Never even crossed my mind."

"That's literally because you have the fashion sense of a wet rock Sidney," Claude said with feeling, shaking his head back and forth. "And you like routine so you literally have outfits for each day of the week and that's it. Trying to get you to try something new fashion wise is like trying to teach a toddler algebra."

"Hey now," Sid said petulantly, looking at the closet reflected in the mirror to his left and noticing the distinct lack of clothes that were hung up there. "Toddlers can learn algebra."

"Sid," Claude huffed in exasperation. "Just no."

"I'm just saying," Sid muttered as he himself rolled out of bed, grabbing his pair of boxers off the top of the sheets and mimicking Claude as he stepped into the left leg of the material, bending over further to adjust so he could slip his right leg in afterwards, unintentionally (intentionally) giving Claude a view of his admittedly rotund behind, before smirking at the other man over his shoulder and stepping forward into the bathroom, leaving his husband fixated on his ass as he sauntered away.

"Lord have mercy," Claude whispered to himself, shaking his head to get himself out of the dirty place it had just descended. 

"And the kindness in his heart," he continued after a brief pause, "to give his hardworking mon amie a little bit of that ass just one more time before he dies."

"Did you say something?" Sid asked as he stepped back into the room a moment later, eyeing Claude wearily trying to piece together whether he had just missed something.

"Nope!" Claude said cheerfully, straightening up and keeping his eyes completely and utterly fixated on Sid's, no quick glances taken to look at his husband's strong chest, cut abs, defined V or treasure trail of dark hair leading down to Claude's second favourite part of his husband. Other than his husband in general. Or that ass. So maybe his third favourite part. Fourth tops.

"Mhmm," Sid said with a laugh, turning in time to disguise the hop of his dick as he snuck a quick glance at Claude's very prominent desire. "Alright, I'll see you downstairs, I'll go make us some coffee's. Milk and sugar?"

"Just milk please," Claude murmured, staring determinedly at the base of the bed, refusing to make eye contact as he watched Sid sashay out of the room, ignoring the hearty honking laugh slipping out from his husband's lips as he did so.

"Fuck me," Claude muttered, shaking his head to clear his thoughts.

"I heard that!" Sid called from the stairs, much to Claude's obvious embarrassment.

"Fuck me twice then," Claude muttered again, turning to open a drawer and pull out his favourite pair of sweat pants which were sitting on top.

"But honestly, Lord give me strength."

"And a whole lotta booty."

 

ii.

"Is this weird?" Sid asked, leaning over to Claude who was farther down the kitchen island from him, talking to some of their friends.

"Is what weird?" Claude whispered back, looking around the room to try and get a sense of what Sid was referring to.

"Is the fact that some of the Flyers and some of the Penguins are all intermingling in Phil's kitchen weird? That seems weird to me."

With a soft chuckle, Claude turned back to survey the room with a new set of eyes, looking at Simmonds and Voracek who were sitting with Phil of all people across the room, having an animated discussion about what Claude believe to be something to do with football, though from what it looked like, Phil seemed to be egging them on for the fun of it which is why Claude hadn't gone over to step in sooner as he seemed to be holding his own.

Danny Briere was spread out on the long couch, lost in conversation with Tanger, Flower and Pascal as the three spoke in very fast French, leaving Geno lost and a little confused in the recliner at the end. Claude was pretty sure more people were coming later who could fill the void so Geno wasn't alone, but he also knew that as soon as Sid separated from him he'd be at Geno's side, so he didn't feel overly guilty that the man was currently sitting alone.

"No, not really," Claude answered finally, taking a moment to turn and admire the casual posture of his husband, who had finally relaxed after about an hour of all the guests arriving. "We've been married for four years already so it's not like they aren't used to each other and we were soulmates so it's not like anyone was going to start bitching and complaining about a soul bond. Though I do admit that the being in Phil's place might be a little bit weird, but he seems to be handling it well at least."

Claude had already turned back to survey the group around him which was how he missed the look of hurt flash across Sid's face. It wasn't until Claude made eye contact with Phil who motioned for him to turn around that Claude realized his mistake.

"Sid?" Claude pressed carefully, sensing that he needed to proceed gently as he eyed the other man who was sucking on his lower lip nervously, something he hadn't seen Sid do in many years, not since before they were married.

"It's nothing," Sid murmured, not making eye contact, grabbing his drink off of the island and turning to wander away.

"Wait," Claude called out louder than he intended to, grabbing Sid's arm to hold him back and catching the attention of everyone in the room. "Did I do something?"

"No, of course not," Sid said with little emotion in his voice, causing Claude's brows to furrow in confusion as he tried to examine the last few minutes of their conversation to find where he had gone wrong.

"You're lying," Claude said carefully, looking at Sid's face for any clues. "I'm sorry, Sid, I really don't know what I said...?"

"It's fine I said," Sid snipped haughtily, still not making eye contact, though his cheeks had coloured a mean shade of grey near the top of his cheek bones, the place they usually coloured when he was mad which Claude was intimately famililar with which he voiced as such to let Sid know he was onto him.

"You don't know this obviously, but when you are mad your cheeks turn this dark shade of red-purple, but just at the top of your cheekbones, whereas when you blush your whole side of your face goes this warm pink colour. So I can tell you for a fact that you are lying Sidney, I just don't know what I said that made you so mad."

"I said it doesn't matter," Sid snapped back, turning to look anywhere but at Claude and realizing that everyone in the room had gone dead silent and were staring at them with looks of surprise and concern on their faces. 

"Sid?" Pascal asked after a moment, just as Claude also said his name. "You okay?"

"I'm fine," Sid said between clenched teeth, his annoyance rising as everyone continued to stare at him like he was a rat in a lab.

"You're not Sid," Claude said gently, though with a surprising amount of forcefulness which drew Sid's attention to him. "It's obvious I've said something. Remember a few weeks ago, when we were waking up for the first time? You told me it was easier just to explain things to you so that you could work through them, as opposed to dancing around the subject. Same philosophy here. What's going on?"

Sid bit his lip and swallowed down the retort that had been at the tip of his tongue, turning to look around the room again and noting the range of emotions in the room which included some confusion at what was going on in the kitchen, but mainly just concern since it had been a long time since any of them had seen Sid lose his cool in such a spectacular manner.

"It's stupid," Sid admitted finally, noticing belatedly that Claude had completely tensed up and was clutching his beer so tight that his knuckles had gone white in fear of hearing what Sid had to say.

"Everything you say is stupid, Sid, what's another thing?" Claude attempted to joke, though there was no emotion behind his words and the joke fell flat, further emphasizing the divide within the room.

"I...am I not good enough?" Sid asked after another moment had passed, voice cracking on the last word.

"What?" Claude responded in surprise, his brows furrowing further as he considered what his husband had asked. "I'm so confused right now, we were talking about there being lots of guests in Phil's house, what did I do to make you so mad."

"You said we WERE soulmates," Sid choked out finally, breath catching as he said the words that had been on repeat in his mind since Claude had uttered them. "Not we ARE soulmates, we WERE soulmates. I just...I thought we were doing okay."

Considering the events of the last two months, Claude hadn't thought it was possible for his heart to break further than it already had until he felt it splinter at the look on his husbands face. Reaching forward, Claude tried not to flinch when Sid deliberately stepped back so his hand grasped nothing as he held it in the air where Sid's arm had just been.

"Sid," Claude started carefully, swallowing down the lump in his throat as he tried to give himself a few extra seconds to think of how he wanted to word what he was about to say. 

"You and I had a soul bond that we had for eight years. Soul bonds, as you now know, allow you to see colour when you meet your soul partner, regardless of whether that is platonic or romantic. We made it romantic, fell in love and got married."

"But," Claude continued, holding his hand to stop Sid from objecting as he wanted to finish what he was saying. "Neither of us has our colours anymore. So can we be soulmates if we aren't primaries anymore? What are we? Neutrals? Faded's? Really fucking unlucky? No one knows, least of all me. But what I do know? That you are my husband. My partner. My best friend and I love you Sid. I love you so much it hurts to think that I love someone as much as I love you. But if I am being honest, I feel weird calling us soul mates anymore because it just makes me really fucking sad."

"Oh," Sid said quietly after a moment as he digested everything Claude had just said, trying to parse through his comments about the pain he was experiencing from the use of the word, something Sid himself had never even remotely considered. "I hadn't thought of it that way."

"So you aren't sick of me?" Sid asked tentatively, raising his eyes back up to meet Claude's who's were wide open and chalk full of emotion as he stared back.

"What on earth would make you think I was sick of you??" Claude asked genuinely, surprise colouring his tone as he tried to think of a moment where he maybe lost his cool at his partner over the last three-and-a-half weeks, though he couldn't think of anything other than the time he caught Sid cheating at Scrabble on his phone last week by looking up some of the answers.

"You just kept saying 'were' soulmates," Sid said sheepishly, the lower portions of his cheeks starting to colour as his flush turned into a full out blush. "Last week at lunch with your parents. Tuesday when we were doing laundry and you said you didn't get paid enough to deal with my bullshit. Yesterday morning over breakfast when you said it wasn't fair that I was wearing your favourite jeans on me and we hadn't even kissed in two months and then feeling guilty about it. Just little things."

"Ah," Claude said with a little nod, pursing his lips together as he thought back on all of the aforementioned exchanges and realized that he had in fact made the same comment several times without realizing. "And I said it today in front of all of our friends and that's when it really started to bother you."

"Yeah," Sid admitted, turning to shoot a guilty look at the rest of the guys. "I'm sorry, I should have waited to talk to you about this in private."

"You never else have," Geno muttered, loud enough that everyone in the room could hear which caused a light cluster of laughter to echo through the room, tinges of awkwardness still heavily present.

"What's that supposed to mean?" Sid asked defensively, crossing his arms over his chest.

"You two bicker like old birds, always bicker, never agree," Geno said with the shake of his head. "No Claude, it your turn to cook. No Sid, I will not watch documentary for one hundred millionth time you doofus. No ginger bread man, you can't eat ginger bread man for real, that's cannibal food. So exhausting."

"I have never once said that eating a ginger bread man is cannibalism," Sid said exasperatedly, turning to look at Claude who was trying to keep a straight face and nod encouragingly. "Wait, really?"

"You literally didn't talk to me for like four hours after I ate it," Claude admitted, doing his best not to laugh though the other men in the room weren't as kind.

"Please tell me we were like 21 when this happened?" Sid said pleadingly, though he had a feeling he was wrong based on the fact that Geno made it sound like it happened recently.

"I mean, four months is a long time," Claude retorted, finally letting the grin break through as Sid let out an audible groan.

"Four hours though??" Sid exclaimed, looking around the room for support.

"That's nothing," Simmonds chipped in, shaking his head before he had even started. "You took Claude's favourite undershirt on one of your trips when you guys first started dating and we went on a three-game losing streak right after. Claude was convinced you were trying to curse the team and didn't talk to you for six days straight until you flew to Philly on an off day to try and make it up to him."

"Needless to say, I moved out not long after," Jakub added, and if Sid's cheeks hadn't been flushed before, they most certainly were now.

"Or the time the two of you got into a disagreement over which was the best Disney princess, which honestly I don't think was ever truly resolved, and you didn't talk to each other for four days."

"To be fair!" Claude chimed in, "we were both travelling and we were busy, so it's not like it was only because he has poor taste in princesses."

"Claude," Wayne said in exasperation. "You spent the six hour plane ride the first night making a powerpoint on why Sid was wrong and then sent it to him by text, email, messenger, and in snail mail on a USB stick."

"Oh my god," Sid said as he let out a surprised bark of laughter. "You're kidding me?"

"It was colour coded," Phil said dryly. "There was a legend."

"A legend," Kris repeated, looking at Sid with as much seriousness as he could manage. "There was a colour coded legend and diagrams Sid. Diagrams."

"See?" Geno said proudly, turning back to look at Sid. "Is like two birds who bicker. Ignore ginger man poor choice of word, he love you gross amounts. Always together, always forever. Everything else is unimportant."

"He's right," Claude continued as the room dissolved back into conversation with a few nodding agreements to Geno's statement. "It's you and me forever. If you'll have me of course."

"I'm sorry for getting mad," Sid started, stepping closer to Claude for the first time in their conversation. "I shouldn't have overreacted. There's just a lot of people in here right now and I know I said I wanted people to tell me things I should remember, it just caught me off guard just how much our lives were intertwined until people are telling me things literally every five seconds."

"Did you need me to ask them to stop?" Claude asked genuinely, mentally preparing to task Sid with something that would force him to leave the room so he could ask everyone to tone it down a little.

"No, I just should have admitted I was a bit overwhelmed instead of getting mad," Sid admitted. "Thanks for explaining things, I needed that."

"You're welcome," Claude said softly, turning to grab his beer off the counter behind him, though Sid saw a flash of a haunted look on his husband's face that he never wanted to see again.

"Oh, and Claude?" Sid voice gently, waiting for Claude to make eye contact with him, his eyes wide as a does.

"Yeah?"

"Forever sounds nice," Sid said with a smile, chest flooding with warmth at the look of awe that spread across Claude's expression.

"Gross," Phil called out, effectively ending any semblance of a moment that the two had been having. "Can we eat now? I'm fucking starving."

"I'll eat him," Claude muttered, shaking his head and turning to look at Sid. "Do you see what I have to deal with?"

"He's my teammate?" Sid pointed out, much to the chagrin of Claude who simply stuck his tongue out in retaliation.

"Yes, but he's my friend and I talk to him more than you do and frankly, Phil is an asshole."

"You love me," Phil replied easily, leaning back in his seat. "And anyways, I'm not into that sort of thing."

"What thing?" Sid asked cluelessly, looking around the room at everyone who was shaking their heads at him in amusement.

"The asshole thing," Phil said happily, enjoying the tinge that was spreading back up Claude's neck from where it had receded from earlier.

"You're not into assholes?" Sid clarified, glancing a look at Claude who was now an alarming shade of grey and blacks and who was also shaking his head in exasperation.

"He no like it in the asshole," Geno finally clarified cheerfully just as Sid took a large swig of his beer, spitting it out across the counter in surprise and proceeding to choke as Phil casually pulled his phone out of his pocket and set to typing something for the following few minutes.

"You okay babe?" Claude asked reassuringly, gently placing a hand on the middle of Sid's back, the latter of which turned to look at Claude with a considering look on his face. "What?"

"That's the first time you've called me babe since I woke up," Sid acknowledged, looking at Claude with a soft expression on his face. "Is that something we used to do?"

"Erm..." Claude trailed off. "I mean, not exactly?"

"Okay? Is this like the sleeping naked thing again where you just don't want to admit it right away that we do that?"

"No you don't?" Phil stated with a raised brow, slipping his phone back into his pocket and joining back in on the conversation with a certain glee in his eyes. "You have pajamas, you never sleep naked?"

"Wait what?" Sid asked in genuine shock. "We don't sleep together naked?"

"Shut your whore mouth Philip!" Claude shouted dramatically at his friend across the room, pointing his finger accusingly as he took a few steps into the living room. "How dare you defy our friendship like that?"

"Not usually," Pascal said with a laugh in answer to Sid's unanswered question, shooting a look at Claude who had colourd dramatically, arms crossed across his chest. "Though Claude has been trying to get you to do so for years."

"YOU ARE ALL TRAITORS!" Claude yelled, dropping onto the couch and burying his face into the pillows, kicking his feet petulantly into the air.

"How could you whore me out like that?" Sid asked exasperatedly. "I'm your husband!"

"You're my husband who's ass is better than the Mona Lisa and it's a fucking travesty you put those ratty ass pajamas over that thing and then wear those ugly fucking crocs around the house Crosby. And it's not whoring you out I'll have you know, we're connected."

"So what would you call it then?" Phil asked with a grin, neatly dodging the pillow Claude threw in his direction.

"I have needs Philip, NEEDS!"

"I feel so used," Sid exclaimed, clasping a hand to his chest as Claude raised his head to see how serious his husband was being. "And what exactly do I get in return?"

"This," Claude said with a dramatic sweep of his hands down the length of his body. 

"And this," he continued, framing his fingers in a triangle around his crotch, raising his eyebrows suggestively as everyone in the room burst into a mix of disturbed and amused laughter.

"No wonder he does't remember," Phil said with a devilish grin. "Not much to remember down there is there?"

"I'm going to kill you Philip!" Claude shouted, just narrowly missing Phil as he launched himself at the other man, Phil dodging out of the way and then much to everyone's surprise, sprinting out of the room with Claude hot on his tail. "I have an amazing dick I'll have you know!"

The room continued to laugh for a few moments longer as Claude and Phil's voices got more and more distant down the halls, the sound of the back door opening heard faintly over the sounds of Claude and Phil tumbling through the door, the remaining men in the room turning to watch out the windows as they ran around the backyard, Phil eventually stopping to clutch at his side and collapse into the grass, Claude dropping down next to him a moment later, but not before "accidentally" clocking him with his elbow as he did so.

"It's all going to be okay, isn't it" Sid asked the room with a soft smile when he finally convinced himself to tear his eyes away from his laughing husband, a now familiar warmth spreading through his chest at the site of someone he cared deeply for laughing and content. "Even if I don't remember, I have you guys to keep me in line. That's really reassuring."

"You always will," Tanger said gently, patting Sid's knee as he came to sit down beside him, squeezing his hand before removing his grip back to his own lap.

"And yes," Simmonds said after another moment had passed. "It will be."

 

iii.

Assistance in Setting Up Charity  
Phil Kessel ; 5:52 PM April 29, 2017

Hi Leslie,

After some consideration, I have decided to proceed with the plan as arranged. I think it's time I learn to move on and start working on getting better. With your suggestion and with the help of some friends, I'd like to meet with you to discuss setting up a fund for young neutrals and faded's to get the help that they need in dealing with their loss. I can't get Stella back, but maybe I can make it a little bit easier for the next person who has to go through what I did.

I look forward to hearing from you.

Warm regards,  
Phil 

PS I was thinking we could call it the CGK Fund. Acronym self-explanatory.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1) *Sheepish waving* Hello? Nice to see you again! Not sure if anyone is there, but if you are there still, please accept my fond hello and welcome back!
> 
> 2) So, I'll admit it. I suck - a lot. I was so overwhelmed by the support on the last two chapters, but life was just insanely busy and at the end of the day the last thing I wanted to do after reading papers, marking papers, writing papers, sending emails, developing class plans, reading theory, participating in discussion, was to write MORE than I already was so I just kind of...stopped? I even stopped reading fanfiction for awhile, which is crazy considering it's been such a big part of my life for so long. But recently I was talking to some friends about how I hate not finishing things and while I was talking about it I realized that this story was one of those things that I hated that I had left unfinished. So here I am, back out of the depths of the darkness, hoping you enjoy a very surprise update.
> 
> 3) Who knows when I will be in the mood to write again, but theoretically there should only be one or two more chapters left. I've always known what the end was going to be and while I could maybe write the epilogue next, I also might add one more chapter to provide a little bit more context before I get to the last chapter. But if I do, it definitely won't be 7,000 words haha sorry about that!
> 
> 4) As always, thank you for the support and the love on my story. I know I don't write often, but you all make me feel valued when I do so thank you. Come find me at hobrerek.tumblr.com and lesson learned: stop writing multi-chapter stories CrazyJ!

**Author's Note:**

> 1) I've had this idea for ages and ages and I am so excited to finally be writing it! I got the idea for this fic after reading [15 Soulmate AUs](https://archiveofourown.org/works/3910180) by BoyGirlBothNoneImTheUniverse and just had to turn it into something. The initial idea is theirs, but I took the one AU and made it my own. Check out their story for the other 14!


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